Falling Slowly
by Travelingthrough
Summary: Teresa Lisbon and a friend spend a quiet evening together talking about the relationship between Lisbon and Jane. Patrick Jane does not appear in this chapter but is obviously a focal point of the story
1. Chapter 1

AN: These characters don't belong to me, clearly. Well Jill is mine, but you're not here for her.

Falling Slowly.

I can hear the bottle of beer being popped open in my living room, the low sigh of appreciation as the first sip of the cold liquid is swallowed.

I have company.

I am oddly disturbed by how happy this has made me.

My friend is in town, so she's visiting and I know that's normal for most people but increasingly work has turned me into… Well, work has taken all of my time, and I really haven't seen enough of the few close friends I do have. So Jill Barker, FBI Agent, law graduate, mom of two, wife of Stephen, Bruins fan, and bull crap detector like no other, is drinking with me in my home.

I love and am intimidated by her in equal measure, as is everyone who knows her really. We don't see each other very often, she lives in Washington with her family, but we email often and talk when we get the chance. She's important to me, and a part of me knows that, and is happy that, I am important to her too. Anyway, she is in town working at a conference for a few days, so I've left work before 8pm to attempt a little bit of a social life.

I have company.

I'm such a loser, and Jill is so going to call me on that.

"Teresa, there is cold beer waiting for you in here; I can't promise the same will be true if you don't stop fussing and come sit down."

"Sorry Jill, I couldn't decide on healthy snacks or cheese based products, so I brought them all. And I ordered us pizza, obviously."

I dump vegetables, dips, chips, and bread sticks on the table. I curl up in my favourite chair, as Jill looks very much at home from her position on my sofa.

"You sure you're ok with beer Teresa, I can go get us something stronger if you prefer?"

"No, this is good, this is nice."

"Nice, Teresa, since when do you like nice?"

"I meant I'm happy with this. Stop teasing me while you drink my beer, and eat my chips. We could've gone out you know, still can if you prefer."

"Nope, I like this just fine. We can talk easier here without a line of guys trying to pick you up."

I nearly spit my mouthful of beer down my shirt at this statement.

"Really Jill…"

I think my eyebrow might actually be raised above my hair line right now.

"Because I'm just that irresistible? Trust me I think we could talk just fine if we went out. Let me change out of my sweats and we can go eat somewhere good."

"Teresa darling, sit back down. I was teasing, sort of. Actually no I wasn't, the last time we went out you got hit on by at least 3 guys. Remember? One of them was so cute I considered doing a background check on him to see if it was worth spending time trying to get you together with him."

I should mention now that Jill calls me darling, it means you're part of her small circle of cherished friends. It took me a long time to get used to it, even longer to like it, but I am humbled to be in her group friends. I hope she feels the same about me.

"You did _not _Jill."

"Well I was pretty drunk maybe it was a passing thought. He was cute though. Anyway, darling, pizza and beer are perfect. I get the night off from worrying if I'm making my kids eat enough vegetables, or if I'm feeding them too much chocolate to make me their favourite parent. Look, I do want to talk to you in peace and quiet, I miss you. And I'm too old and too married to put up with guys trying to steal your company from me."

"Old, Jill we're the same age; if this is going to be one of those conversations then I might actually need tequila."

"Nope, I have an early start, there will be no tequila tonight Teresa Lisbon. I was hoping to have conversations about how wonderful we both are, how Magic Mike is possibly the greatest movie cinema has ever given us, discuss just what it is about salted caramel lattes that people go so crazy over, and then I was probably going to try and sneak in a question or two about your love life. Sound good?"

Well I knew that last part was coming, at least she's been here for nearly an hour before we got onto the subject of my lack of love life. I sigh and probably look as weary as I feel. I don't need this, I know she means well, but I just don't need this tonight.

"Look, darling, I worry about you. I'm not going to be sorry about that, not ever. Worrying about you via email is difficult and tonight we are in the same room, we have alcohol and pizza is on the way, you had to have suspected I was going to go there."

I did, of course I did, but for a while I wanted to pretend this was going to be easy.

"Okay then, what it is you want to know about my dating habits?"

Jill has been staring at me for a few moments with what looks like disbelief on her face, that can't be good.

"Teresa, I'm not convinced you could give me any details. We both know thinking about yourself or worrying about your own feelings is a place you really don't like to go."

I'm studying my hands now, looking at the clear blue of the veins underneath my skin, determined to concentrate on anything other than the honesty of the words spoken to me. The fault here is mine and I should have expected this, been more ready for it. I should have known I was at least going to get a 'concerned friend' lecture tonight. I should have had a speech prepared for this.

I should really have insisted on tequila.

"Don't look like I'm trying to hurt you darling, I'm allowed to worry. Okay?"

I finally look at my friend, recognising the truth of her statement and the honest affection in her voice.

"Okay."

I barely recognise myself, that word that escaped me sounded like it was spoken by a scared woman, an utterly exhausted woman. I wonder if that's who I really am now, I mean am I really that terrified over talking about my own feelings? Or maybe I'm just afraid that Jill knows me well enough to push me until I talk about my terrifying feelings for Patrick Jane.

"Teresa, I just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself, that's all."

A firm knock at my door breaks the tension. Pizza comes through for me yet again.

"Just let me pay for our food and I'll be right back with you."

I uncurl myself from my comfortable position on my chair, padding across the room to retrieve the distraction of dinner. I pay for our meal, tipping way too much but I needed to pretend to be normal for a moment; I am so grateful for the chance to breathe.

She's going to make me talk, she always can. It's one of the reasons I love her and need her in my life, but also why I am so scared. I move into my living room and place our dinner on the cluttered table in front of my sofa. As I do this Jill moves from where she has been sitting and pulls me towards her in a clumsy attempt at a hug.

"It's worth remembering darling that I care. Let it be ok that I do, and just accept I'm on your side. Okay?"

She tightens her arms around me as I return the embrace, enjoying the uncomplicated affection.

"Okay. I'm sorry, I care about you too."

I feel slightly ridiculous admitting this but at least I get to say it to Jill's shoulder, and I can hide some of my embarrassment.

"Well good. Now that we've established our mutual affection let's attempt to eat at least half of all this junk food and then I can go back to making you feel uncomfortable."

So we eat our pizza and enjoy a couple of beers and I let myself relax a little. We talk about Jill's conference; she's got a seminar to deliver tomorrow and it's kind of a big deal. There's a high profile strategy her department have been trialling so I know we won't be drinking anymore beer tonight. But I can tell it's been helpful for Jill to talk about her schedule tomorrow, talk about it with someone who doesn't have anything to gain or any reason to be anything other than supportive. I can see, however, the exact moment she tires of talking about work; she gets a text message and her whole demeanour is transformed from stressed to happiness.

"I take it that's a message from home?"

She keeps all of her attention on the words on the screen of her phone, it takes her a few moments to even look up and acknowledge my question.

"It is, Stephen telling me that the warfare of bath time went ok and that he's going to sleep. And that he loves me, and other stuff I'm not sharing even with you darling."

Her smile of pure pleasure while relaying this information to me is the best thing I have witnessed in weeks.

"I can go clean up, let you call home if you want?"

"No, no it's okay. I'll call him in the morning. What I really want to do now is talk to you."

"Jill, I have nothing to say. Job going okay, but you know it's been a tough year. My apartment is finally starting to look and feel like my home. I've been running more when I can, thinking about maybe training for a marathon this year. I'm not seeing anyone, and I'm really okay with that. That's all. I'm fine; please stop looking at me as if you have to worry about me. I'm good."

"You're good, that's what we're going with?"

"I don't need the 'when are you going to find a husband' chat Jill. I'm surprised you would go there."

"Did I mention anything about you needing a husband? I don't care about that – works for me, doesn't work for everyone. That's not what I mean, and I think you know that Teresa. You're trying so hard to either pick a fight or feign disinterest in your own life and that only makes me worry more."

I know she's telling me the truth, just as I've known where this conversation was eventually going to lead us. But Jill usually lets me off the hook so she must think I'm in a very bad way if she's not prepared to do that.

"I just don't feel like talking about me all night. It would be more fun for you to tell me stories about Emily and Michael it's been too long since I've seen them".

"Look darling, I'll bore you all night and into next week about how wonderful my kids are if that's what you really want. But we're here, just us, there's no one to interrupt and no one to judge. I'm asking you again, on behalf of people that love you – how are you doing?"

I stare at my hands again, hiding my face behind my hair; feels like I've turned into the teenager I was never really allowed to be. I don't know what to say, but I do want to share my thoughts with someone. I do want to tell someone about… Wait, I don't want to tell _someone, _I want to tell Jill. I want not to be judged, but then I know the harshest judgement will always be my own. But more than this, more than any of this; I don't want to cry because I am so afraid that if I start weeping I won't be able to stop.

I really am a teenager again, how pathetic.

"Teresa, is the secret of the universe written on the back of your hands?"

"It was, but it rubbed off."

Jill laughs at my weak joke, but the tension is broken and maybe I should just talk. Maybe I should just be brave for once.

"I don't know what to say, Jill. I don't know what you want me to say."

Well, my bravery lasted all of thirty seconds, as I'm back hiding my eyes; my cheeks burning with embarrassment as we endure another uncomfortable silence.

"Teresa, I'll start you off so we both know exactly where we stand. Okay? Patrick Jane, any comments that come to mind?"

And I'm laughing now, laughing so hard that my stomach muscles are straining from the effort. Jill is laughing too, if anyone were to see us they would probably think we had lost our minds – but it feels good to laugh. I can't remember the last time I laughed till it hurt. It feels good, it's why uncomplicated relationships are important I suppose. Now, I should step up and talk about my most complicated relationship.

"I can see why you are such a successful agent Jill, you're subtlety is peerless."

"That's what my husband tells me."

She is still laughing, I think she might have a bigger beer buzz than I thought, or maybe she is still just trying to make me feel safe and comfortable and cared for.

"I'm very happy you came to visit, Jill. It's good to have you here."

"I'm happy too, darling, but now enough prevaricating and tell me what's going on with you and Patrick Jane."

"Subtlety again?"

"Yeah, and you are delaying again. Come on, Teresa, I have to go back to my hotel soon so you're going to have to get to the good stuff now. I am going to allow you to give me a ride to the airport tomorrow night, and first I will buy you a nice dinner – and for the duration of our meal I will bore you with stories about my children, my husband, and how we spend our weekends. First, I want you to tell me why you are so sad Teresa."

"I'm not sad Jill, I don't want pity. I don't know what to say, I don't know how to explain to you what's been going on. I don't know how much you know, or how much you want to know."

"Well, let me tell you what I think I know about you and Patrick Jane and you can tell me if I'm wrong."

"Okay."

"Can I call I call him Patrick, feels odd double naming him all the time?"

"I don't ever really call him Patrick, not even to myself. He's Jane, call him Jane please."

Jill moves to the end of the sofa, bringing herself closer to me and where I sit. I think she wants to read my face for my reactions to her words, or maybe she wants to be close enough to hold my hand. Both of those scenarios are likely knowing Jill.

"Jane is getting more reckless in his attempts to find Red John, and people are talking. And I don't care about his recklessness, I care about your life – and I worry how you will be affected by this. I worry about your career, I worry about your life and I worry about your heart. And I worry that you don't care about those things I worry about, because all you see is him."

"I care about his recklessness."

I whisper those words, not wanting to admit that they are more important than anything else Jill said. I worry about him. He is so reckless, and I _care_.

Jill reaches for my hand and encloses my cold fingers with her own warmer ones. So the move closer to me was about comfort, I'm not sure I can bear that.

"I know you do, Teresa. Tell me, then. Tell what is going on."

"I can't, there are trusts I can't break – Jane feels he is closer than ever to catching the man who killed his wife and child."

"I don't need to know about that, I don't want to about Red John. I want to know about you, if you are taking care of yourself or if you are letting him abuse your trust."

"It's more complicated than that."

"Really, would you let me treat you the way I think this Jane guy treats you?"

I don't even have to think about the answer to that but I pause for a few moments, hopefully giving the impression that I do.

"No, I wouldn't stand it from anyone else."

"So if he doesn't respect you, and gets you into trouble why do you put up with it? Explain to me why my confident, capable friend allows a trickster to rule her life."

Because he is my life. I can't say that out loud, I don't even like the way it sounds inside my own head.

"He does respect me I won't have you thinking otherwise. I'm his partner; it's my job to stand beside him. He's part of my team, and it's my job to protect them."

"And that's all it is?"

"No, of course not, you know that – you wouldn't be pushing me like this if you didn't already know that."

"Okay, that's good. So you have feelings for someone you work with, yes? That's complicated and difficult but it happens, I don't know why it would be so awful."

"One sided relationships, Jill, embarrassing and the worst."

"Okay, you spill details now and you need to pick good words. I need you to just tell me everything about how you are feeling. You don't even need to look at me while you're doing it if that makes you feel better; just carry on staring at you lap or your hands. But I do think it would help if you admit to both of us just what is hurting you so much. I won't interrupt, you know I won't judge and maybe I can help. How does that sound?"

"Like something I really don't want to do."

"Excellent, let's hear it then."

As Jill says these words, she leans back onto the comfortable cushions of my sofa and starts to eat the remaining bread sticks from earlier. Odd that I am about to confess my most protected secrets while my friend snacks. Or typical perhaps that I am focusing on the snacking rather than my secrets.

"Teresa, we don't have all night darling. Nothing that you can tell me will ever make me think less of you, so just say the words. But you have to say them out loud, I'm just saying."

"You are such a smart ass; I'm surprised Stephen puts up with you."

"He has too, and so do you – words Teresa, I need the words."

I don't know which ones to choose, how can I explain ten years of my life in a few sentences?

"I made a mistake a few weeks ago, Jill, a horrible mistake. For the ten years we have worked together I have tried so hard to keep my feelings to myself. I don't want to be a burden to Jane, he has enough of those. So I've kept myself hidden as much as I could but I think he knows now."

That's it, that's what I have to tell her. That's all.

"Teresa, what does that even mean? Did you get drunk and confess your undying love?"

"Of course not, that would be awful. I let my guard down, and he saw; and I don't know how to come back from that."

"Explain, I promise I'll help but you have to give me more detail."

I'm going to cry, I think. Fitting, I suppose, considering my actions that I am so ashamed of.

"We were dealing with a suspect, and Jane tends to lose focus when it comes to this particular suspect. She was a confidant of Red John, and Jane and she had slept together when he disappeared to Vegas last year."

"What? Wait, what?"

"Yeah, I had a few troubles with it too. He was playing mind games with Red John, faking a breakdown amongst other things. Anyway, he had an intense history with Lorelai - the woman - to the extent that I couldn't explain it to you now. But he loses his grasp on reality when she is around, and I find that hard to deal with. I was stupid and I got emotional at work and I think he knows now."

"That you love him."

A statement, of course, not a question.

"Yes."

"And it's a bad thing that he knows because he has no feelings for you, because of this woman? I have to tell you, Teresa I don't think I want you to have feelings for this guy if he is sleeping with suspects."

"It's more complicated than that, and part of my problem was that I don't really know about the relationship between Jane and Lorelai. And it's not like I'll ever really know now, as Lorelai was killed recently. I think he felt a connection with her, and I am jealous of that. And he saw, he saw I was jealous. And he let it go, there was a moment he could have been honest with me if he had feelings to share…And he let it go. I need to get over myself and let it go too. "

"I only understand half of what is going on here. This woman, Lorelai, she died? Do you want to talk about that?"

"Absolutely not."

"Okay, so he saw that you were jealous and that means you love him? Couldn't it just mean you were pissed with him?"

"No, Jane reads people, he would know. I couldn't hide it."

"And is he making work difficult for you because of this?"

I laugh out loud at this question, if only she knew.

"No Jill, he makes work difficult because he is Jane; that's been going on for ten years. No, we are ignoring what happened. The same way we ignored it when he told me he loved me."

She sits forward on the sofa, pulls my hands from where they rest in my lap and pulls me forward to face her, the frustration evident on her face.

"Teresa this is the most complicated conversation we have ever had, are you kidding me? He confessed his love, and you ignored it. Both of you?"

"No I asked him if he meant it, and he said that he couldn't remember what he said."

"I think I might need to kick this guy when I see him, is this real what you're telling me? Truly?"

"It's true, but you are getting the wrong impression of Jane. He won't allow himself to live, Jill. He has half of a life, where he exists to find and kill Red John. He won't allow himself to lose sight of that, or for anyone to get in the way. And that includes all of us that he works with, all of us who are the closest to him. He won't move on, maybe even if he wants too. He needs his anger, his pain, and his desperation to be as raw as it was when he found his family all those years ago. I can't deny him that, I can't interfere with what he has to finish – I can try, but I can't change the need that is inside him. I want other things for him, I believe he should have more than half of a life but I can't _make _him change. He is kind enough to spare my feelings by leaving them alone. I think he believes that it is a kindness to pretend I feel nothing, and for us to muddle along as we always have. And he is selfish enough in his quest to want justice for a killer more than he requires any sort of life for himself."

Jill squeezes my hand, and I think the sympathy might be my undoing.

"Teresa, what do you want? Just say it, just say it out loud. If you could have anything, what do you want with Jane?"

I pull my hands back to swipe at my tears, sitting back in my chair to try and compose myself again.

"I want him to rest. He never sleeps, well not for long enough. He has no home to speak of anymore so he haunts a room in the CBI building where he plots and sometimes attempts to rest. So he actually almost never rests, and it is obvious how utterly exhausted he is. So what I most want for him is for him to lie down on a comfortable bed and to sleep for a night. I want him to have peace for a while. That's what I want most with Jane; I just want some peace for him."

I look up at Jill, wondering why she is silent, and she is weeping too now.

"Teresa, darling, I'm sorry I didn't mean to cry but that's so… You really are lovely, and I know you hate to hear things like that, but you are. And I think I understand a little of what you have with this man, perhaps not all the subtleties and textures of your life – but I think I get it a little more. I'm very sorry, and I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything I don't need you to Jill. I'm not going to stop caring, and I want you to understand that my caring isn't a weakness. I care about someone and the world won't stop because of that. He doesn't want to be with me, and it breaks me sometimes but I love anyway on my own. It is how it is, and I can't give it up, so please don't try and persuade me to. This is my life, and I won't change it."

"Can I have a hug, I promise I won't make you again tonight but I think I want to hug you now."

So we rise from where we are sitting and Jill wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me against her, and in return my hands go round her shoulders and I am just short enough to hide my face in her shoulder. I'm not crying anymore, but I do feel raw and exhausted and to be held and supported by my friend feels good. I don't often allow myself this closeness with people, and I think I should sometimes.

"I'm so happy I got to spend some time with you tonight Teresa, and I'm sorry I pushed you into talking and crying. But I appreciate the privilege of your trust and your honesty."

"I'm sorry for crying."

And for crying on your shirt, and leaving wet patches on a sweater I am almost certain is expensive cashmere. I'll whisper that sentiment and hope Jill picks up on it somehow…

Jill loosens her hold on me, and moves her hands to wipe away the tear tracks on my cheeks. She is looking at me with such affection, and something else which could very well be concern. And it hits me suddenly that this her mom face, and I miss mine all the more in this moment. It's funny the journeys emotion can take your mind on sometimes. Anyway…

"I should go, Teresa. I'm sure you have an early start tomorrow too. But I meant what I said earlier, I would love to buy you dinner tomorrow if you're free?"

"Of course, that would be lovely. Shall I come and pick you up?"  
"Nope, I am coming to your office and I am going to silently inspect this man you have such affection for."

"Jill, I don't want you to interfere."

"I absolutely promise I will not do that, I just want to see him for myself. He is rumoured to be gorgeous after all. Is that something that is remotely true?"

"You must have seen pictures of him; you know what he looks like."

"Yes, Teresa, but I am asking if _you _think he is gorgeous."

I can feel my cheeks burn again, why do I do that, it makes concealing my feelings so stupidly difficult. But yes, of course I think he's gorgeous – I don't think anyone would argue that point.

"He has a certain something."

"Really, a certain something? I'll bet. Okay, I'm going and I will see you tomorrow my friend. And I promise I won't do anything to embarrass you, I just want to take you out for a fun dinner. We can talk about all the things we didn't tonight, Magic Mike, shoes… I don't know, whatever women are supposed to talk about."

"Your children, we are going to talk about your beautiful children. And maybe shoes. But I want to talk about happy things, not depress you with stories of my stupid life."

"Your story was not stupid, it was lovely and I am moved by what you told me. But I need to go to my hotel and get some rest, so I would like to sleep on what you shared and tell you my thoughts tomorrow. Would that be okay?"

No, of course not. I'm going to pretend tonight never happened.

"Depends on how good my steaks is, but if that's what you want then of course. You can solve the puzzles of my life for me and feed me dinner – sounds like a perfect night."

Jill kisses my cheek in farewell, gathers her bag and jacket and heads out into the cool air of the evening. I watch her get into her rental car and drive off.

I clear away our glasses and snacks, and go upstairs to the darkness of my bedroom. I crawl into my bed fully dressed and close my eyes. I will lie awake most of the night thinking of what I don't have and my thoughts of a different life.

I spend nights like this often.

At least tonight, for a while, I had company.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks very much for the welcoming reviews, lovely and very much appreciated.

Disclaimer: These characters clearly don't belong to me, again Jill does but she is of secondary interest.

Falling Slowly.

This day feels like it is never going to end, and I am bored and irritable beyond all reason.

I have been lying here on this couch for what feels like hours and I am disinclined to move, but people are starting to go home for the evening and I want to see Lisbon before she heads out for the night too.

I haven't been able to talk to Lisbon today, and I honestly want to look at her and make sure she is okay. Lisbon hasn't been sleeping these past weeks, slightly ironic for me to worry about sleep deprivation I know, but I shoulder some blame for her lack of sleep. I want to look at her lovely face and tell by the tightness around her eyes if she managed to rest last night. I hope she did, I hope Lisbon rests when she is away from here.

Her couch is certainly comfortable, and I can tell she has been lying here recently because her wonderful scent remains on the cushions; but I want to see her and maybe try and tease a smile from her. I have missed her today; I miss her a lot of the time recently. I know it's my fault, I know so much of everything is my fault, and yet I can't seem to translate this acknowledgement of my failings into actions to resolve them.

So I lie on her couch, and I wait to make her smile. I know that's not nearly enough, but I think sometimes I owe her at least that much. Which is, of course, meaningless self –deception because the least I owe her is to tell her how valued she is; how wonderful at her job she is, how I am thankful every day that she is on my side, that her smile lights up any room, that she is wonderful and utterly, utterly adored. That would be the absolute _least _I should be telling her, instead I lie on her couch and try and trick myself into believing that a few words between us at the end of the day will communicate all that I refuse to say.

I know my words are not, I accept the few sentences we share before she leaves for the evening are not enough to communicate what I need to. I know my actions have consequences, but I am struggling to choose which actions to follow. I'm struggling with a lot of things, which is perhaps the most laughable understatement and Teresa would roll her eyes at me in amusement if she could hear me talking like this.

Teresa.

I'm struggling with Teresa. I should at least admit that to myself. I wait here on her couch to spend at least some of my day with her, and selfishly it's only a partial truth that I do this because I want to check on her sleep patterns. I want to spend at least some of my day with her because I simply _need_ to spend at least some of my day with her.

Most of the day, actually.

All of the hours of the day, truthfully.

Anyway, I am waiting here for Teresa and I think I might be the tiniest bit angry with her today. I believe she might have been on a date last night, and I need to find out if that is true. She left early yesterday; well she was gone by 6.30pm which is _early _by Lisbon's standards. And for the brief moment I saw her today she looked lighter somehow. She looked tired, but she didn't look quite as burdened as I would expect her to be. As burdened as I have made her. Again, I would get my ass kicked for a comment like that if Lisbon could hear me, laughing at my imagined over significance in her life. But real or imagined her significance in my life is what brings me to this office, this couch, and tonight I won't sleep or rest not because I am thinking of catching a predatory, evil man who destroys lives but because I am thinking of Teresa.

Increasingly I can't feel guilty about that.

Instead of guilt I have what feels suspiciously like anger and jealousy festering inside tonight. That Teresa finds some measure of comfort outside of the office with an active dating life should be nothing but a good thing; she deserves only happiness and peace. Both of those states I could certainly never offer her, I know that, I know that to be true and yet… I am angry with her.

So I lie here on her couch for the chance to look at her for a few moments, maybe make her laugh, maybe annoy her. But I want a chance to remind her that I am here, and whether or not she dates and whether she sleeps are significant events for me.

I should retreat to upstairs but while there is the chance that I will get to spend even a few moments with Teresa tonight then I want to stay here as long possible. Maybe I should simply close my eyes and try to rest surrounded by the scent of Teresa Lisbon, it wouldn't be the first time I've sought solace and comfort while sleeping in her office.

I last slept in here several weeks ago, the nights after we fought over Lorelai. I can hardly think of her without the shame and revulsion overwhelming me. I know Teresa believes I am implacable and overly cruel sometimes, and in this instance I know I was unnecessarily so.

I hurt Teresa because of my actions with Lorelai. _Actions,_ I'm even kidding myself with my choice of words. I hurt Teresa because I slept with a dangerous woman and made us all vulnerable because of my unyielding focus on an end point to my quest for vengeance. I wish Teresa would realise I need an _end _to this quest one day, and that I might want to be around to live beyond that end. Though I know it hurts her more that the vengeance is sometimes all I can see, taste, and live for.

Not always though, vengeance is not always the only thing I see.

Regardless, I hurt Teresa; I wounded her as I so often have. I saw Teresa's heart on display in her expressive eyes when we argued that day; I witnessed her tears and her sorrow and a glimpse of emotions I rarely dare to hope she would return. But as usual I ignored the honest vulnerability of my lovely friend and I concentrated on the path towards finding Red John. I want tell her how I hope the path to Red John doesn't led me inexorably away from her. I want her to know and accept as fact how that would destroy what little is left of myself.

But I do none of these things; instead I lie alone in the dark and think about her beautifully expressive eyes. I think about her on dates with other men, laughably using the term _other _to mock my own place in her life. I think about her absence from my life today. She has been busy with Van Pelt all day, justifying her agents time away from our team I think. I have been working cold cases, hiding on my couch and thinking about how Teresa chose to spend her evening last night. I thought about her eating dinner with a man, and him trying to make her laugh. I can't express how unpleasant it is that she is out in the world laughing with someone other than me. And that sentence precisely expresses the level of my selfishness when it comes to Teresa Lisbon and her place in my life. I often think it would be easier if I simply told her how much I've come to love her. Well I tried once and made a terrible mess of it; I lost my nerve and I've regretted it every single day since.

With Angela and Charlotte I could never stop telling them how much they were loved and when I lost them I didn't imagine I would have the need for those words again; I thought all the love I would ever have had been removed from me. Now I realise there is more love, but I can't find the way back to the words to express the absolute clarity of my feelings. I'm trying, but as usual I am letting those closest to me down.

I hear noise outside in the bullpen, but it doesn't sound like the footsteps of the wonderfully petite Teresa Lisbon so I can safely close my eyes and wait in anticipation of her arrival. I curl myself further against the fabric of the couch, realising again that it's too devastating to even contemplate that she would be out dating two nights in a row.

"Teresa, I know I'm early but we finished on time surprisingly, and I thought I would try and force you to leave with me."

A confident voice I don't recognise forces me to open my eyes to see who is looking for Lisbon.

"Oh, I'm sorry to disturb you I was looking for Teresa Lisbon; I thought this was still her office."

I am caught slightly off guard by the sight of the tall, elegant blonde woman who seems to know Teresa and who seems to be laughing at me now.

"Were you just sniffing those cushions?"

No, certainly not. Okay, a little perhaps; the fabric holds the scent of Teresa Lisbon and it's overwhelming sometimes – and who could resist sleeping with the scent of Teresa on their clothes and skin? I should probably answer this woman as she is almost definitely laughing now.

"I think you are mistaken… I'm sorry I don't believe we've met."

I rise from my position on the couch and move towards the unexpected visitor.

"You were, you were sniffing those cushions and I caught you. That's excellent, is this a cushion fetish or a couch fetish I wonder?"

I can't quite place the accent, certainly the Boston area but what I do recognise is the laughter and teasing in her tone; and her avoidance of an introduction.

"Well is it cushions or couch that does it for you? Or is it something else? I have a similar system at home sometimes. My husband has a particular chair he is fond of, it's leather and worn frankly but he loves it. When he's working nights and the kids are sleeping, and I can't sleep, well I like to curl up in his chair and, you know, smell the cushions… I'm Jill Barker by the way, and I still don't know who you are."

Who _is _this woman?

"I'm Patrick Jane, a colleague of Teresa Lisbon's; you were looking for her when you walked in here. This is still her office I was just waiting for her too."

"And you don't have a couch of your own to sleep on?"

"Actually I do, Jill."

"I understand, this one is nicer and smells like a pretty woman; all clear now."

Who is this woman? Seriously, I feel like I've been sleeping for a week and I've woken up in an alternate reality.

"Why were you looking for Lisbon, are you working with the CBI?"

"No Patrick, we're going to dinner; you know, that meal people like to enjoy after a long day at work. I live in Washington and Teresa and I are grabbing a quick dinner before I leave on a very, very late flight. We had pizza and beer last night and tonight are upping the stakes with steak and cheap wine!"

She had pizza and beer with Lisbon last night, which means there was no other man making Lisbon laugh. I am starting to become very fond of this woman.

"Goodness that's a smile, does it let you get anything you want Patrick?"

"I'm sorry I don't know what you mean."

Of course I'm smiling, I'm unspeakably happy that Lisbon has been on no dates this week. I know how that makes me sound, but I really don't care.

"You are smiling, Patrick, the way my son does when he sneaks food away from his sister or the way I did when the Bruins won the Stanley Cup… It's a nice smile and I'm wondering what I said to inspire it."

"No reason, can't a man simply be content and happy?"

"I know of you by reputation only, Patrick, and I have to tell you "_content and happy" _are not generally how you are spoken of. Forgive me if that's rude, but it's a fact. But I do believe that was an honest smile of happiness, so I can only guess as to the reasons why. And I would imagine my lovely friend Teresa Lisbon was the reason for your sudden burst of pleasure. Would I be correct in that assumption, Patrick?"

I am more than a little intimidated by this woman, and I don't think that's happened to me _ever. _I mean, I think I might have reason to be the tiniest bit afraid of her. I should offer her tea.

"No, I was thinking about tea, always am when I am at my happiest – would you care to join me in a cup?"

"No thank you Patrick. And I can't fault you for your misdirection, but I maintain that you were just unable to contain your glee that Teresa and I were together last night. You thought she was on a date, and the fact that she was with an old friend made you smile that golden smile of yours."

I'm not sure I can face arguing the point with her, it would be simpler to concede and try and get out of here before Lisbon comes back.

"I'm sorry can we start again Mr Jane? I've had a very stressful day and you are bearing the brunt of my teasing because of that. I'm not usually quite so rude to people I don't know that well. I maintain the truth of my previous words, but nonetheless I don't mean to embarrass you or make you uncomfortable. Truly. Truce Mr Jane?"

I like this woman, and not just because she is proof Lisbon was home last night and away from the admiring glances of men.

"Of course, any friend of Lisbon's… And please, call me Patrick."

I smile again, this time on purpose and this time to try and charm the woman standing in front of me. I think it can only be a good thing that Lisbon has this woman in her life, I'm glad she has friends who care for her. I do such a bad job of caring for her that it's comforting there are people in the world who are so much better at it than I am. I hate it too, hate that I am a man who cares only half the way in.

"Patrick, why are you in here and where is Teresa?"

"I am here waiting for Lisbon, she is somewhere in the building working but if she knows you are coming then I would imagine she will be here any moment now. You know how she hates to keep people waiting. I'm here because I was going to make sure Lisbon went home to eat and sleep tonight – but I can see you are taking care of that already. So I'll leave you to it."

"Don't run out on my account, honestly. It is a pleasure to meet you Patrick; I work for the FBI and know of your work by reputation. I admire what you do here with Teresa."

My skin prickles and I get the familiar feeling of unease when I am around law enforcement agents I don't know. I don't know how long Lisbon has known this woman, so I really don't know if she is a messenger from Red John or is who she claims to be. Is it possible I can reduce all the interactions in my life to somehow being associated with Red John; Lisbon would be so cross with me for having these thoughts. I wish she would hurry up and get here.

"You're wondering who I am, and if you can trust who I say I am. Look Patrick, Teresa has been my friend for twelve years; I've known and loved her for a long time. I don't work for a serial killer, I am not enslaved to him and doing his bidding. I have a four year old daughter and a six year old son; I am enslaved by them. Kids, husband, friends, and job – I don't have time for anything else. Again I don't want to disrespect you, but I have no agenda today other than dinner with my friend. I know of your history, and I'm so sorry for your loss – but please believe me when I tell you my reasons for being here have nothing to do with the FBI, or Red John, or anything other than spending time with my lovely friend."

I really do like this woman very much.

"Of course Jill, sometimes I forget my manners."

"I hear that, sometimes I lose mine for days. So, Teresa Lisbon is your colleague and you are hanging around here to make sure she eats and sleeps. That's the story we're going with today is it?"

I can feel my cheeks brighten with embarrassment; I'm not used to such forthright behaviour in this office.

"I think it's a story I can live with, Jill. You don't approve that I check up on Lisbon?"

I'm sitting on the sofa now, Jill standing in front of me; appraising me with eyes filled with sympathy and more than a little amusement.

"Of course I approve, I was just calling it how I see it. I do that a lot, really pisses of my husband."

"He's a lucky man, and I'm sure he knows it."

"Most of the time he does, sometimes I'm a nightmare to live with and sometimes so is he. That's a partnership though isn't it? So without you trying to charm me, Patrick, I'll ask again about your waiting here for Teresa at the end of a work day."

I wasn't prepared to have this conversation, ever, frankly. I really do want a cup of tea now. I don't know how I am going to escape this friendly and yet lethal interrogation

"Jill, there you are, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting. I'm ready to leave when you are."

And just like that, as she has done so many times in the past, Teresa Lisbon strolls into a room and saves me.

"No problem Teresa, you look wonderful darling. You do know your dinner date is just with me, don't you?"

Where I sit I am obscured from Lisbon's line of sight by Jill, as she is from mine but these words make me stand up and move to look at Lisbon.  
"Jane, what are you doing here?"

I hardly know what to say; I think Lisbon just spoke to me but the words were fragments of noise in my ears. She is wearing a dress, a dress she should frankly wear _every _day. It's blue and wrap around and highlights her legs, her waist, her hips, her everything… Is that even possible? She looks truly beautiful, so young and lovely and I think I must have been staring at her now for several moments too long. I'm almost certain Lisbon will ignore it, and that my new friend Jill will call me on it in every possible way.

"Hey Lisbon, I was just leaving; I was entertaining your friend while you were unavailable. I'll leave you to your plans."

"Seriously Teresa, you look beautiful, doesn't she Partick? I didn't know we were dressing up, you have a date after our date, don't you?"

I hope the answer to that is of course not. Was I supposed to speak there, am sure Jill was attempting to get me involved in conversation just now.

"You do look lovely, Lisbon; absolutely lovely."

The small smile of pleasure Lisbon tries and fails to hide at my words has made my interrogation fade into nothingness. Her unaffected smile of pure pleasure has just become the highlight of my week.

"Of course I don't have a date later. I wanted to dress up because I never do, and I've just gotten changed in a bathroom in this building. It was not pleasant. I'm wearing a nice dress, so bite me. Okay, so we should probably get going Jill if you want to make your flight."

"We should probably do that Teresa, yes."

The teasing tone from earlier has returned to Jill's voice, it might be quite something to watch these two inimitable women interact.

"Patrick, would you like to join us?"

What, what's happening now? I keep tuning out; I'm blaming Lisbon's legs and the perfect curve of her calves.

"That would be lovely, but I don't want to intrude. Both of you go and have a great dinner; it was a pleasure to meet you Jill."

"Come now, Patrick, are you sure we can't persuade you. I think the plan for tonight was to talk about shoes; do you know anything about shoes?"

Jill looks at my battered shoes and seems to crumple with laughter, Lisbon is trying desperately to get out of the room I can feel the tension radiating from her. I'm not quite sure why she would be so unnerved right now.

"Well, clearly Patrick, shoes are not your area of expertise. No problem, you can be our barrier against idiots; whenever I go out with Teresa and she looks like she does now we are approached by every guy in the building who thinks he has a shot. If you come with us maybe we can just have a meal and talk. I can share Teresa stories; you can share Teresa stories…"

Every guy in the building approaches Teresa. I am not comfortable with that scenario.

"Jill stop being a pain, we don't need barriers against idiots – if Jane comes we would just be bringing our own idiot. And I certainly don't need to sit through an evening of listening to you two making up stories about me. Can we go, I'll see you tomorrow Jane."

She really is quite wonderfully beautiful when she is annoyed; it's one of my favourite looks on her.

"Jill, I would love to come, I'm starving and making up stories about Lisbon is one of my favourite things to do. Also I can drive and that way you both can have wine with dinner, and I'll even drive you to the airport afterwards. And I would be delighted to share stories about Teresa with you."

Lisbon is going to kill me; I know that with absolute certainty.

"Excellent that's settled then."

"And I have no say in this, I have to spend an evening being made fun of by the two of you and I get no say in it?"

"Teresa, darling, I could happily spend an evening sharing stories of how wonderful you are – and am sure Patrick could so the same. We are going to have some good food and some conversation – none of it involving law enforcement – and we _are going to enjoy ourselves."_

I really, really like this woman. Teresa and Jill are having a silent conversation using only little smiles, and eye contact. It's quite lovely to watch Lisbon interact with a real friend. She seems happy, and it will be wonderful to spend an evening with her like this; as long as she doesn't kill me in the morning for daring to intrude.

They seem to have resolved the little private struggle and are moving towards the door, leaving me a little behind as I have been caught up in my own thoughts again. I follow Lisbon across the bullpen, listening to Jill and her talk about their respective days. I move with them to the elevator, my hand on the small of Lisbon's back as we enter. That small touch of my hand to the base of her spine has been a lifeline to me so many times in my life. The lift door closes and for a few seconds the three of us stand together in peaceful silence.

"Patrick, so is there anything you were hoping to find out about Teresa tonight?"

I stare straight ahead, watching the numbers change as the lift descends from floor to floor. I want to know if Lisbon could ever be happy to share her life with a broken, worthless excuse for a man. I want to know if she would ever want to hear me tell her how much I love her. I want to know if she is sleeping, but I mentioned that part before. I want to know exactly how lovely her eyes look when they are viewed over candle light. I want to know the answer to all of these things.

"Well, Jill, I've always wanted to know what instrument she played in band. It's her most guarded secret."

I hear Lisbon sigh, and Jill giggle, as the lift doors open and we head out into the night.

I'm going out to dinner with Teresa Lisbon and she is wearing a sinfully flattering dress; I can only hope she is as happy about this as I am.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks very much for the reviews and the positive reactions to the previous chapters, very much appreciated. I know my Lisbon and Jane are acting out of character, but it's my convoluted version of them – and hope you enjoy a little.

AN: These characters definitely don't belong to me; except Jill and this is probably the last time we will see her for a while.

Falling Slowly – Chapter 3

All I wanted was to go out for dinner with my friend. I was going to get dressed up a little and pass an hour or two far removed from my usual routine. It was going to be fun and calming. And I was going to eat a really nice steak, and maybe some carbs. I had definitely been looking forward to the carbs… Not much of an evening, but my standards of fun evenings out are not very high.

As is so often the case, my plans have gone to crap.

I am sitting in a perfectly nice restaurant, maybe it's a little shabby but apparently the food will more than make up for the faded wallpaper; that's what Jane told us anyway when he drove us to the restaurant of his choice. And there is my problem as usual; Jane.

I didn't plan on sitting in a booth across from Jane and my trouble making friend Jill. She is certainly too pleased with herself at this little outing she has arranged, and Jane is showing off to his audience of two. Well he is showing off to anyone he comes into contact with, which I suppose I should be entirely used to by now.

It's dangerous, though, being out like this. I don't know what Jill thinks she is going to achieve tonight, and that has gotten me stressed and on edge; the opposite of how I thought I was going to spend the night. I shouldn't have told her about my unresolved feelings for Jane, and I certainly shouldn't have agreed to come along on this fiasco. I don't want to be made fun of or teased; I just don't have enough energy for that. I wanted to talk honestly with my friend; there is a comfort, albeit a terrifying one, in Jill knowing that I have stupidly real feeling for that stupidly insufferable man sitting across from me.

"What do you imagine she is thinking about?"

"Paperwork or coffee, knowing Lisbon."

I am suddenly aware of being the focus of all attention at the table, conversation has halted and I look up from my drink to see two pairs of amused eyes watching me. Jane is smiling a little half smile of amusement and what I would imagine he thinks is charming; those of us who know him better know it's his practised, artificial smile. I don't know how to interpret that. And Jill, well she is smiling and it is genuine but she is staring at me with eyes that are screaming _join in, speak, sorry._ Not as sorry as I am Jill.

Goodness I must be terrible company as my self-pity is starting to put me off my dinner. I should stop mopping, enjoy this pleasant glass of wine and be pleasant to people who are trying to engage me in conversation and simply spend time with me.

"I'm sorry, I spaced out there; what were we talking about?"

"Teresa, darling, Patrick and I were simply wondering where your attention was; because it wasn't here with us. Patrick seems to believe you were thinking of working or drinking coffee – I can't believe that to be true, at least tell me you were thinking about that cute guy on the table over in the corner who has been trying to catch your attention since you sat down."

I throw Jill a look which I hope conveys how very much I would like to shoot her right now, but I refuse to look over to where she indicated; I am not in the mood for her match making games tonight – something I hope she would have realised. As my attention is focused across our table I watch as both Jill and Jane stare at a table across the other side of the restaurant; Jill is smiling and affecting that she is simply looking for a waiter, I think. Jane on the other hand is looking across the restaurant as though he wants to go and ask my apparent admirer to step outside. He never does like to share his toys, and the notion of him having to give up his audience of two tonight must be infuriating him.

When did I become this person? I am now petulantly complaining about Jane apparently wanting to give me his focus and attention this evening; the very way I want to spend most of my evenings. I need to stop being such a brat.

"Stop it Jill, I was certainly not thinking about fictitious men who are trying to get my attention and nor was I thinking about paper work or coffee. I was thinking about food, it's been a long day and I haven't eaten so I was thinking about my steak. Okay?"

"Certainly darling, you sit there in your lovely dress and think about food while Patrick and I talk about you, politics, sports and that cute guy over there that will spend the rest of his evening trying to get your attention…"

"Shut up."

That was elegant Teresa, I succinctly won that argument.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your charming conversation ladies, but I must protest that while I will happily spend the evening discussing most of those topics with you Jill, I refuse to talk about sport. Not even Lisbon has persuaded me of its reason for existing."

I laugh as Jill turns in her seat to stare at Jane, I can feel myself starting to relax; literally feel the tension ease a little from my shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, tonight will be fine – we can laugh and tease and have a night off from who we usually are. I can do that, and it won't even be for very long as Jill has a flight to catch in a couple of hours. So I can definitely be a cheerful version of myself for the rest of the evening.

"Patrick Jane, I was led to believe you were a man of taste… No reason for sport to exist, there are simply not enough hours left in human existence to discuss the factual inaccuracies in that statement."

"Forget it Jill, on this topic Jane is an idiot – he refuses to enjoy sports, and believes those of us who do to be utterly inferior. He is an idiot. Clearly."

I spit out those last words, but as I say them I am grinning at Jane; this is a long established argument between the two of us. He knows my feelings, namely that he is wrong and an _idiot _while Jane sticks to his principles and periodically tries to prove me wrong. Like I said, he is an idiot.

Jill is still staring at him, she and Jane are sitting on the same side of his booth and she has twisted in her seat to face him. I'm not sure what her reaction is going to be, she looks like she might either hit him for his stupidity or simply shake him to force some sense into him. Goodness if only Patrick Jane was that easy to manipulate.

They are staring at each other now; grinning like the idiots I know both of them are capable of being. I am suddenly grateful for their presence in my life, for all the faults and difficulties of our relationships I am* unspeakably lucky to know them.

"So Patrick, it appears you are pretty but just not that smart; how very disappointing."

I am laughing, openly laughing at Jill and her teasing; very few people in the world get to do that to Patrick Jane and it's fun to be the audience for once.

"I concede, a sensible man can tell when he is beaten. To indicate my capitulation I will pay for dinner and that cheap red wine you're insisting on drinking."

"Not so smart, but definitely a snob; Teresa how ever do you manage to put up with this man? The wine is fine, just because it doesn't cost $100 a bottle doesn't make it vinegar; you have the same ridiculous prejudice as my husband. You're making me mad now, so that's two topics we have to avoid; sports and wine. What are we going to talk about now?"

Jill winks at me as she says these words, and I can tell how much she is enjoying herself. I know today must have been stressful for her, and we haven't even talked about how that went. But maybe this is better, maybe this is just what she needs; she can tease me and Jane and get outside of whatever dramas are going on in her own head. Allowing her to do this will also give me respite from the incessant drama playing in my own mind.  
"Well why don't we talk about our shared interests Jill; and as far as I can see the very top of that list would be Teresa Lisbon."

As he says these words, Jane looks at me with his most beautiful smile; the one that reaches his eyes and causes every magnificent line on his face to crinkle and highlight his appeal. It's a devastating weapon and a large part of my waking life is spent trying to resist it. I break my rules a little tonight, smile in return and swallow a large mouthful of the disgusting wine Jill is making us drink. It really does taste like vinegar.

"I _think _we should talk to a waiter, our food seems to be taking forever to get here and you have a flight to catch."

There that'll work Teresa, no one will even think about talking about you now.

"Calm down Teresa, don't worry I think we must be about next in line to be fed. And I have over an hour before we have to get out of here, so relax and enjoy yourself for once; at least do that dress the courtesy of enjoying your evening out."

Next time I am alone with my _friend _Jill Barker I am going to shoot her. Somewhere really painful; her elbow maybe. I am already mentally composing the hate filled email I am going to send her later.

"I think Lisbon is so cranky as her blood sugar is low. I wasn't around today to make sure she ate, so she will have existed on coffee. I think she is worried about the waiter coming because she is trying to convince herself that she won't need to go to the table next to us to steal their breadsticks."

He really is an insufferable man. And I do eat when he isn't around, I was just busy today.

"Bite me."

This makes Jane laugh, and Jill look at me like it's me that needs shooting in the elbow.

"Okay, Patrick; you have any particular Teresa Lisbon stories you want to share with me."

Well there are lots he could share with you Jill; the one where I waited for him for six months while he ran off to Vegas. Actually he couldn't tell you that one, _because he ran off and left me._ Or maybe he could tell you about the times I slept outside of his motel room in my car to make sure he stayed home and wasn't out on some irresponsible scheme to catch a serial killer. But he actually doesn't know about that one either; and this disgusting wine is making me into a vicious drunk – well I'm not drunk but the viciousness of my feelings seem to be showing tonight.

"I'm not sure I could tell you anything about Lisbon you wouldn't already know. I find her lacking as a card player; that is my most recent discovery about her. In most other respects I find her to be superior to just about anyone else in the world."

I've been waiting for the joke, waiting for Patrick to look up from his cup of tea and add a teasing comment to his lovely words. But he is drinking his tea, avoiding my eyes and drinking his tea. I don't have the vocabulary to deal with this situation, I would ask for Jill's help but she is staring at Jane with unreadable eyes.

"I hear that Mr Jane, I hear that. Now if only we could convince our lovely Lisbon of her unique wonderfulness then imagine how much happier she would be."

Shut up. Shut up.

"I'm plenty happy, thank you Jill. Why don't we talk about something other than me, I can think of hundreds of more interesting topics. How was work today, did everything go okay?"

"Nope, we're not talking about work, it's not happening. It went fine. Not great, but fine. I'll speak to you about it next week when I have gotten my head around what I need to. Anyway, Patrick isn't interested in talking about my work. Where are your manners, Teresa? So, in the spirit of talking about shared topics we can all engage with – favourite Teresa Lisbon stories, who'll start me with theirs?"

Jane nearly chokes on his tea as he listens to this exchange between Jill and I, serves him right, I hope he does choke. He looks absurdly pleased with himself; and also absurdly attractive in his rumpled suit. I wish I didn't notice these things, I wish I didn't worry that a rumpled suit means a night spent sleepless and worrying about Red John.

"Nothing to share Patrick, you disappoint me."

"I have plenty to share, but I don't want to anger Lisbon on an empty stomach; sometimes she hits me and I don't want to encourage that particular behaviour this evening."

I smile a little as I sip my awful wine, I can feel the warmth of Jane's gaze as we both pretend he is not looking at me.

"Okay I can work with that. I have a _great _story where my darling Teresa nearly broke my friends arm."

Lies, utter lies; sort of.

"He wasn't your friend."

Excellent, pick that part of the story to debunk Teresa; good work.

"Interesting, I thought I was the only one you abused Lisbon; do you leave a trail of bruises and broken bones across the country?"

I think that is the weirdest sentence Jane has ever said to me, which is remarkable really.

"Patrick, it was amazing; my husband, Stephen, still talks about the incident with reverence and awe. Actually so do a lot of his buddies, well they talk about Teresa with reverence and awe but that might just be because she is magnificently hot."

_Magnificently hot?_ Shooting her in the elbow isn't severe enough a punishment. I am genuinely going to hurt her when this is over. Truly.

"It was last summer and we had a house full of people, just a day of eating and drinking and generally hanging out. There were a lot of people there from my husband's work, and I had not personally vetoed them so a couple of ass holes had managed to sneak into one of my parties. And one of them, Chris, decided that little Teresa Lisbon was the woman for him. Well, certainly the woman for him _that night_."

My face is burning with embarrassment listening to this; it was bad enough at the time. I don't want Jane to hear this story. Jane is fine, I think, a little too smug though as he sneaks glances at me to watch my reaction to the story.

"And Lisbon had a different opinion from this Chris, I assume?"

"You assume correctly Patrick. He was very good looking this guy, don't get me wrong; but the personality was that of an ass. I remember him following Teresa around singing to her, that was a low. Stephen is a big Springsteen fan and there's a song where they narrative is about a woman named Teresa, naturally when that song played this was a sign for Chris to sing it to our Teresa all day."

That was not a good day; it was supposed to be barbeque, football and friends. And it was, _sort of_; but it would have been better if there hadn't been an idiot there. Actually I remember what I thought at the time, I would have been better if I had been there with a partner and then I wouldn't have needed to discourage the attention of a drunken fool. Depressingly the _partner _I thought of having with me had blond curly hair, and a fondness for wearing suits every day.

"Anyway, this went on for a couple of hours, and I could tell Teresa was doing her best to hold her temper because she didn't want to upset Stephen; I told her to punch him several times. Anyway, we had a game of football in our little garden, and Chris thought this would be a perfect excuse to demonstrate his masculinity to _little_ Teresa. I wish I had the words to recreate what she did, it was beautiful. Basically, Teresa was on the opposite team from Chris and he was showing off – also I should tell you now he's about 6 ft. 3 and a big guy. But Teresa took him out, just tackled him to the ground as if he was nothing. It was beautiful, people actually applauded. It was beautiful. So, one of the things I love about you Teresa is how delicate you look but how powerful you can be; and that you can show it when you absolutely have to or you can keep a lid on it when you need to."

"He was an idiot, and I didn't mean to make such a scene or hurt his feelings."

"I know you didn't darling, that's another reason you are so delightful."

Jane is suspiciously silent, watching me with dark eyes and a fixed grin; I always worry about his silences more than his ramblings.

"I have another one, Patrick; another reason my family loves and adores Teresa Lisbon."

Now they are both watching me as Jill speaks, it's unnerving and not why I came here tonight. I risk looking at Jane and it feels like he hasn't blinked in forever, he just watches me in return as he fidgets with the cutlery on the table.

"My son Morgan was very young, probably about 18 months old and it was the first time he had met Teresa that he would remember her; it was the first time she had been able to visit since he was a baby. Anyway, we went to the park for the day – lots of my friends from Washington, and there were a lot of kids there. A lot of moms who Morgan knew well were there with their kids, it was a nice day. Anyway, while I was with my daughter, Morgan had a fall, I could hear him crying but I was too far away to be the first one to get to him. And he was with decent people, all those moms he knows well because of the amount of time we spend together; but it was Teresa he went to to be held. He ran to Teresa, who at this time he hadn't started to lovingly call Aunt Teesa; but he went to her to be held and to be helped to feel safe and to feel better. And he did this, of course, because instinctively he felt secure with Teresa; he felt her kindness and goodness and he trusted her. So my baby boy and his perfect instincts is another reason the Barkers adore Teresa Lisbon, we recognise her kindness and cherish that she shares this kindness with us."

Jill raises her glass to me as she finishes speaking, so I return the gesture and try very hard not to cry. I'm not sure why kindness should be a quality to be commented on; surely we should all just be kind. I raise my eyes to look at Jane and he has what looks suspiciously like tear tracks on his cheeks.

"Are you okay, Jane?"  
I say the words before I think to censor them; forgetting we are outside in the world and whatever he is thinking he probably won't want to share. He smiles at me and wipes his tears away as he turns to look at Jill.

"That was a lovely story, and of course I understand why Morgan would trust Lisbon so much. He is obviously a young man of impeccable instincts, and Lisbon's kindness has very often been the only thing between me and despair. It's funny how children can unconsciously recognise goodness and safety in people. My daughter Charlotte was quite shy with strangers when she was very small, and we worried about her interaction with other children and adults. I used to take her for walks on Saturday mornings, and always on the way home we would stop by a little book store for a treat – Charlotte loved to be read to. And to read."

I don't know what to do, I'm afraid to move or breathe too loudly. I can't believe he's talking about Charlotte and more than that, although his expression is sombre and almost reverential, his eyes are shining with love as he talks of his little girl.

"So every week we would buy a new book; and every week I would try and get her to go to listen to the little story- time group the store ran for children on weekends. It was sweet; staff would read chapters to the children as they all sat together on the floor. I know Charlotte wanted to be involved, but she was just too shy to do it; and nothing her daddy could say would convince her it would be okay. One Saturday, however, the staff member reading the story was a woman I came to know as Elaine; and Elaine decided Charlotte should come with her and be involved. So she spoke to Charlotte, coaxed her into trying what she so desperately wanted to do; and her greatest weapon was her kindness and her goodness. Charlotte just believed in what Elaine told her, and that she would be safe with her. So while I watched from the side, with a lot of other nervous parents while my baby went to story time. And she loved it from then on, loved Miss Elaine most of all. She loved it."

I need to stop crying, it's not appropriate that I am crying when this is so clearly Patrick's pain. He is looking at Jill now, smiling a sad smile as she smiles just as sadly at him in return. She pretends awfully hard that she isn't every bit as kind as the rest of us, but my friend is quite peerless in her empathy and warmth.

"So, anyway, what I was trying to say was that… Actually my point got lost in the memory, but I know Morgan was smart to run to Lisbon for comfort; I've been doing it for years and she's never let me down even when she would have had every right to. I think I can see our waiter bringing our dinner over to the table, so before he gets here let's drink a toast to Lisbon – a tiny woman of enormous strength and enormous heart."

"I'm _not _tiny."

I smile my protested words at Jane, as he offers me a sad smile and we drink our disgusting wine.

The rest of the meal is less emotionally fraught. We enjoy the food, which is every bit as good as Jane suggested it would be. We talk of a concert Jill is going to next week with Stephen, and we talk a little of when I am going to be able to take any time to go visit. Jill graciously lets me not commit to any specific dates, but I do commit to visit as soon as I can.

It's a nice night; good food and eventually uncomplicated conversation with two people I care about very much. I think my life would be infinitely better if I spent more of my evenings like this.

But I should simply enjoy tonight for what it is, a treat; maybe even a moment out of time. We spend an hour or so eating too much, and Jill and I drink a little bit too much, and then suddenly it's time to leave and our little evening has to end and I have to say goodbye to my friend.

I am too quiet on the drive to the airport, but I can't quite summon the strength to join in the conversation. I sit in the back of Jane's ridiculous car beside Jill as she talks to him about favourite ways to cook lamb. About ten minutes into our journey while she is telling Jane about a particularly wonderful meal she ate in a restaurant in Rome, Jill silently takes my hand and holds it tightly in her own for the rest of the drive. I can't express how grateful I am for her discreet comfort. As the airport terminal comes into view I squeeze Jill's fingers one last time, and rouse myself from my self-involved reverie.

"Okay, Jill do you want us to come in with you or do you want dropped off?"

Patrick Jane can be very sweet sometimes. Jill leans forward, letting go of my hand, and instead leaning against the back of Jane's seat.

"Mr Jane it has been a pleasure, but you can let me out here. I'm going to use my little bit of alone time to get a coffee and people watch; what else is there to do at an airport?"

So the three of us get out the car to say our farewell. Jill hugs Patrick, and he seems to return her affection with no reservation. As Jane goes back to the car to get Jill's brief case from the trunk, I am pulled towards Jill into one of her signature fierce hugs.

"It's been so good to see you darling, but as always too brief. I _like _him very much; I want to say I _approve _but I know how much you would hate that."

I laugh into her shoulder as she whispers these words to me.  
"I'll miss you Jill."

And I mean it very much; I always miss her very much.

"I'll miss you too. And I mean what I say about this one, don't give up. Okay? You deserve an equal Teresa, and I think you should remember that. Maybe he deserves that too."

"Okay."

I whisper that and hug Jill just a little harder. I hear Patrick coming back towards us so I loosen my hold and step away from my friend.

"You'll tell everyone I'm thinking about them and I'll come visit soon?"

"I will darling, just make sure you do."

And with that, Jill takes her briefcase from Jane, she kisses him on the cheek, repeats the gesture with me, then walks away into the airport. And just like that she is gone until the next time.

"Quite the woman."

"Yeah, she is something. Always seems a little too quiet after she leaves a room."

"I can see how that would be true. Okay Agent Lisbon, time for me to drive you home."

And suddenly we are back to Lisbon and Jane; his hand at the base of my spine while he guides me back to his car. He opens the door for me and grins as I sigh at how insufferably pleased with himself he seems to be.

Again the drive back is quiet, mainly because I am tired and full of food and wine and I drift in and out of sleep for most of the way home. But I keep my eyes open as Jane turns into my street. I should talk to him a little; make sure he is going to be okay tonight.

"Thank you for tonight, Jane. It was a lovely dinner; you were so right about what they can do with a steak."

"I told you Lisbon, I know food."

He's grinning at me now, back in the practised roles we play. I'm tired of that tonight though, after all that I have thought and felt these last few days; I am tired of our practised roles.

"It was lovely to hear you talk about Charlotte."

And just like that his grin is gone, and Jane is suddenly very interested in staring out of his window. But I am going to do this, it's probably time.

"I don't mean to hurt you, I could never want that. But it was beautiful to hear you enjoying remembering her; it was beautiful to hear in your voice how much you love her. I wish you could enjoy the memories of your family more, that you could embrace how very happy they made you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but it doesn't make what you do now any less meaningful if you look on them with love rather than sorrow and remorse."

He remains still, staring out the window in a place I can't reach him; and I realise suddenly I have gone too far. It is okay for me to argue with him about Red John, but I shouldn't tell him how to feel. I couldn't possibly know, so why would my opinion even be relevant.

As I think of ways to apologise I see movement out of the corner of my eyes, and suddenly my left hand is clasped between both of Jane's. He has turned slightly in his seat, staring at me with unfathomable eyes.

"I'm sorry Patrick, I'm sorry, please ignore me. I'm truly sorry."

And he remains silent but moves my hand to his mouth and rests his lips on my knuckles. We pass long moments in the darkness and silence of his car; I can feel his breath against my fingers as he holds my hand to his mouth. Just as I begin to wonder if it would be better to move and snap him out of his silent contemplation, he kisses my knuckles. The most gentle brush of his lips against my skin, again and again. And then he goes back to holding my hand against his lips while he breathes in and out.

"Jane?"

I hate to disturb him, but I can't have him drive off into the night like this; especially when this is all my fault.

"Jane, will come in with me? Can I make you some tea? Please, just come in and sit with me for a little while. Okay?"

He places a tiny kiss to my knuckles again as he finally releases my hand; I never thought the most intense kiss of my life would be the hint of the touch of lips to my hand.

"Teresa…"

I jump a little when he speaks startled, I think, that he has the wherewithal to remember even how to talk to me now.

"I would love some tea, Teresa. I would love to drink some tea with you."

So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to drink tea with Patrick Jane, and this is all very, very normal.

We're going to drink tea.

This is all very, very normal.


	4. Chapter 4

Sincere thanks for the reviews for Chapter 3, lovely to know people are reading these words I am putting together; and even lovelier to know some people enjoy them. Jill has left for a while, but the plan is for a return soon – when things start to go a little bit wrong.

Falling Slowly – Chapter 4

For the second night running I have company in my home, but I don't think beer and pizza are going to have such healing qualities as they did last night.

I don't quite know what to do; Jane is standing just in front of me, seemingly fascinated by his shoes, and it doesn't look like he is intent on moving anytime soon. I'm not sure he's actually capable of moving, something in him seems to have shattered since we came in through the door. I can tell from the tension in his shoulders and the absolute weariness of his demeanour that our conversation in the car has reduced him to this nothingness.

"Jane, would you like to go sit down?"

He doesn't give any indication that he heard me, which is mildly terrifying frankly. I remove my jacket and move to stand in front of him to see if I can coax him into walking towards the couch.

"Jane. _Jane_, are you okay?"

I take his hand, wrapping my fingers round his to try and draw him out of wherever he has gone.

"Your fingers are cold Lisbon."

I smile at him as he whispers these words to me and I tighten my grip on his hand, trying to make him look at me by the curl of my fingers around his own.

"Come sit with me, please Jane, please come sit with me."

And at my words I finally get what I wanted, but suddenly it seems like the worst reward I could ever have received. He has tears in his eyes and a look of such sorrow mars his beautiful face. I have done this to him tonight with my insensitive discussion of his family, as though I have any right to tell Jane what to think and how to feel. I want so much to frame his face with my cold hands and kiss his tears away, but that would be so selfish and an act of comfort for myself; and I don't deserve comfort after putting him through this.

"Of course I'll sit with you Lisbon; lead the way my dear."

So with his fingers still entwined with my own I led Jane further into my home and towards my couch. Only a few hours ago I had beer in here while I faced some uncomfortable truths with a friend, tonight I think the best I can hope for is that I can encourage _this_ friend to rest. Before moving to sit I turn towards Jane to read if he is okay with where I am taking him, but as is soon often the case he anticipates my unasked question and simply pulls me down to sit beside him.

So here we are, sitting together in my apartment. It's been several minutes since we sat down, but I've been too nervous to say anything and Jane seems unlikely to speak at all. Our fingers, however, remain entwined. We are close together, but with enough space for our joined hands to rest on the cushion between us.

"Jane, can I do something for you? I'm so sorry for the way I spoke to you before, truly sorry. What can I do, tell me what I can do?"

The silence we are sharing right now is different to the usual peacefulness we can find in each other's presence. Usually when he is on a couch and I am near it's because I am working and he is pretending to sleep; now I am tormenting myself with the possible implications of my thoughtlessness and Jane is apparently unreachable.

"Call me Patrick."

What.

"You want me to call you Patrick? Okay, if that's what you want… That's fine."

Though clearly it's not.

"I'm sorry Teresa, but if you are worrying quite so much about me tonight it would be exceptionally helpful if you were to call me Patrick."

"Of course."

Would it be over stating to say that me calling him Patrick is the oddest part of the night; and I say that while I am sitting here holding his hand.

"And I believe there was the mention of tea earlier; would it be possible to have a cup Teresa?"

"I'm sorry, of course. Stay where you are, take off your jacket and get comfortable and I'll go make some tea."

I move from where I am sitting but I can't leave to go to the kitchen as Jane – sorry as _Patrick – _doesn't seem to want to let go of my hand. I have never known him to be this clingy in the past. We don't _do _this. We don't cling to each other when we are desperately upset, we show up later when the wounds have healed a little, but we definitely don't do this.

"You're going to have to let me go, Patrick."

And it's as though my words have wounded him again, and for a few moments I can read only desolation in his eyes.

"I find myself increasingly unable to do that, Teresa."

This is not what I was expecting; _we really don't do this._

Jane takes pity on me, I think, as he lets go of my hand and I am free to go make tea, and catch my breath a little. I don't care who you are, Patrick Jane looking in your eyes and whispering words around his feeling for you is breath-taking.

"I hope you won't be forcing me to drink any of that fruity imitation tea I've watched you and Grace try and introduce at work."

"Don't worry my apartment is a fruity tea free zone. I have coffee, which neither of us need; or I have some Assam tea that I…"

I stop what I am saying, conscious of what I almost admitted and how it would appear, especially now. If I am lucky Jane will let my silence go.

"You have some Assam tea that… You stopped in the middle of a sentence Teresa; why would that be?"

Because it's not important that you know _every little thing_ that flashes through my mind.

"I bought some for you, like a gift basket a few years ago; then I realised how stupid that was so I mostly drank the tea myself. Anyway the Assam was my favourite so I always have some in my cupboard just in case I feel like a_ girl_ and want to drink some tea at night."

He is smiling at me, that beguiling one he does where his eyes crinkle and I can almost believe he is happy.

"You bought me _tea?"_

"Shut up."

"Seriously Teresa, why didn't I get my gift?"

Because I was afraid of what you would intuit from the gift; I was worried you would realise that I think of you and of your comfort, and happiness. I was worried you would mock me for it.

"I forgot to give it to you; that's all. I forgot."

"Okay."

I know there is more he wants to say, but he simply watches me in silence as I make our drinks. This feels more like normal, we could say more and yet we don't. I almost tell him that I bought him tea because I thought it might make him happy, that I hoped he would take pleasure in it; and then I didn't give him the gift because I knew it would expose my heart. I almost tell him this, but I do not.

Our drinks made, I lead Jane back to the couch and hope hot tea will soothe us both; it's one of my more admirable qualities apparently – hoping in vain.

Goodness I'm starting to sound insufferable again inside my own head; I need to hush and ensure my friend is okay and then I need to try and get some sleep.

We reclaim our previous positions on the couch; Jane has taken his jacket off so looks slightly more relaxed than he did a few moments ago. I am still wearing the ridiculous dress I just _had_ to put on for my dinner with Jill. I feel over dressed, silly and unbelievably afraid of hurting Jane anymore tonight.

We are back to the silence, the only sound the swallowing of hot liquid and then the return of our cups to their saucers. I know I have to say something to make it alright, to make _us _alright again, but I am struggling to know which words to choose.

"Seen any good movies lately, Teresa?"

I turn towards him smiling, remembering a similar conversation from so long ago.

"No."

"Okay then, well that's cleared up that issue."

I can tell he is trying to find his way back to being _Jane_, to be the insufferable presence in the room that can be depended on for a glib comment and an annoying observation. I shouldn't allow him to do that, should I?

My drink finished I lean forward and deposit my empty cup on the table in front of me, as soon as this is done Jane leans forward to do the same with his. I move back into the soft cushions of my sofa, and I close my eyes, hoping to find some inspiration in the darkness. And do you know what, I close my eyes because I'm tired, exhausted really and it feels good to rest.

My eyes are still closed as I feel the slow slide of his fingers across mine, pulling my hand from where it rests in my lap to rest instead in his hand on his left thigh. This night just keeps getting weirder. I keep my eyes closed and wonder if this is all a dream.

"Teresa, your hands are still cold; are you ever warm woman?"

"It's because I'm tired, leave me be; not everyone is as perfect as you are."

I keep my eyes closed through this exchange, knowing that if I open them he will loosen his hold on me and I will be separate from him again; frightening how much I want to stay connected to him like this.

"You going to fall asleep, Teresa, and if you want to I can leave and let you get some rest."

No. Suddenly my eyes are open and I turn in my seat to face Jane, drawing my legs up onto the couch and tucking myself into my usual position when I relax at home.

"No, I wanted to finish our conversation from earlier first; if that's okay. I wanted to make sure you know how sorry I am about hurting you. I didn't mean to meddle; I think I was channelling Jill. Actually, that's not fair; what I said was entirely my own fault and I am sorry for bringing you pain."

Jane stares at me, and I can't tell you what he is thinking; I would honestly say that he is shocked by what I am saying. Before I have the chance to say more he moves our joined hands from his thigh and holds my cold fingers against his lips; a repeat of his gesture from earlier in the car. He is not kissing me, just holding my skin against his lips as he breathes in and out.

"Is this your attempt at warming my hands, or have you suddenly decided that my fingers are a good place to warm your lips?"

That sounded snarkier in my head, but now that I've said it out loud it sounds like I'm flirting. I can be such an idiot sometimes.

"Maybe it's a little bit of both, Teresa. I do wish you'd stop apologising to me, you did nothing wrong earlier. You were being honest and my friend, both of those things I hardly deserve from you. And I agree with you; I do… It's difficult Teresa, sometimes I think I'm brave enough to do what you suggested; but the rest of the time I know I need all my energy for what I'm doing now."

"I know, I know how much focus finding Red John takes but I worry about what will be left of you when you find him."

What is wrong with us tonight, where is all this stupid honesty coming from?

"I wish you wouldn't worry about me, Teresa; it won't do any good. I can't allow it to change anything. Please don't waste time worrying about me."

Really, back to retreating so soon.

"Is that really what you want Patrick? I thought you were Patrick tonight while I worried, why would you even come in here if you don't want me to be involved? Why would you come with us tonight if you don't want for me to care about you? And why is it okay for you to watch out for me, but I can't extend the same courtesy to you."

I'm yelling at him now, mad at him. Mad at us both for allowing us to get here; mad at us both for caring and ignoring it outside of our own head. Because I'm done thinking he doesn't care, but I'm mad at him for believing it to be a weakness. And if I stay mad at Jane then it means I don't have to look at myself and my own inertia.

While I've been yelling at us both in my head, Jane has further tightened his hold on my hand but this time he _is_ kissing my fingers.

"I don't want to let you go, Teresa."

"Well, too bad; I'm going to need my hand to work so you're going to have to give me it back sooner rather than later."

"No Teresa, I _don't want to let you go."_

We are staring at each other now, but I'm not sure what we are saying. Usually I can understand our silences perfectly, this time the words are foreign to me. So I do what I should have done in the beginning; I pull away from him and move away from where we are pretending to be honest together.

"Don't you see how messed up this is, Jane? You're sitting with me, kissing my hand and telling me about not wanting to let me go. You don't _have _me. There is nothing to _let _go. We don't normally go out for dinner and trade stories; we don't normally talk like this at all. I mean, as messed up as this is it's the most we've ever said to each other, out loud, _ever_."

"You're supposed to be calling me Patrick, Teresa."

"Shut up. Just stop being Patrick Jane for five minutes. Stop it."

And now Jane is on his feet, advancing towards me as I try and leave. He catches me around the waist and holds me to him as I attempt to control both my breathing and my temper.

"I'm always going to be Patrick Jane; and you would resent me if I were not. I'm not trying to upset you, Teresa. I find myself not in control of this situation, and you know much I enjoy when that is true. I'm being honest when I tell you I don't want to let you go, and I agree it's obviously true that we don't talk like this normally. It doesn't mean I don't want to Teresa, it doesn't mean I don't think about it. I think about you; goodness knows I have enough time on my hands to think. I know you believe I spend my time thinking about Red John and ways to find and punish him; and of course that's true – that will be true until I kill him."

I am trying to squirm out of his hold, but Jane is much stronger than he would have us believe and he seems intent on doing just as he said earlier and not let me go.

"But I don't just think about Red John, I would still be in the hospital if that were true – the only reason I survived Vegas was my thoughts. I thought about Angela, and Charlotte; and making it home to Teresa Lisbon. I _do _think about my family and how much I love them, I do think about happy memories and even simply the mundane events of our life. I think about that every day. I don't talk about it because it's easier to control and easier to keep _mine _if all I do is think. Red John took them physically away from me, but he can't take them from my thoughts – so I keep them on the inside where I can nurture and protect them."

He's crying now, the tears are streaming down his face. I wish again that I could wipe the tears from his skin, but I am afraid I will break this spell – I am afraid my touch will help him retreat into silence again.

"I think about you too Teresa Lisbon, I think about you every day. You are a constant in my thoughts. You are my constant, Teresa. I don't say any of this on the outside of my head because if it's a secret then he can't get to you. If I keep these things to myself then I can protect you; because you won't let me protect you in any other way. I do think you are superior to anyone in the world, you must know that."

"But that's not true."

Excellent, Teresa; well done. Patrick Jane has just shared more of himself in the last few minutes than all the years I have known him and I choose to call him on a lie.

"I really do think you are superior to everyone else Teresa, I do."

He pulls me further against him as he confesses this, but I need to call him on his lies or I will hate myself for it.

"No, you said you think about me and that I am a constant in your thoughts. You say you do this to protect me – that you keep this secret to protect me, and that sounds beautiful and noble in a despairingly tragic kind of way. But that is lies, Patrick; it's lies. You _do _tell me things, you tell me about always saving me and you even tell me you love me. You tell me these things, and then you take them back; or refuse to admit they were ever spoken. And you leave, and you shut me out, and you leave, and you hide, and you hurt me."

That felt good. I know I'm crying, I know I must look a mess and I know how emotional and vulnerable I have just made myself – but it felt good. I step out of his arms and swipe at my own tears. I don't know where to go now, I've yelled and cried and want to make a dramatic exit but that would mean leaving him; and all I want to do is hold him.

"I would much rather I hurt you Teresa than allow _him _to hurt you."

Stupid man, stupid, stupid man.

I do what I have been resisting all night; resisting for ten years really. I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on Patrick's chest, almost smiling as his arms immediately encircle my body.

"He's not going to hurt me."

My words are whispered against his chest, my tears soaking through the expensive material of his vest. I know my words wound him as I am suddenly and possessively pulled further into his embrace.

"You've heard this speech before Patrick, so forgive me. I will be ready for Red John if he tries to hurt me, I will. I will be just as ready for him as I am for any other unexpected danger. I know he is _the _most dangerous man to have coming for me, but I don't want to lose my entire life to him. I would have failed utterly if that were true – and it terrifies me that you value your life so little that you surrender all of yours to him."

"I don't care about my life; I care about his death."

And really that should have me walking away; shouldn't it? I'm being embraced by the person I care about most in the world and he is talking to me about death. I should walk away, but I know I never will. He is resting his lips on my shoulder now, and I shouldn't – but I do – wonder what it would take to have him kiss me there.

"I care about your life more than I do his death, Patrick; I want you to promise me you'll remember that. When you are next about to run off and do something dangerously insane, remember what it'll do if you are lost to me. I know you will do anything to get to him, and I know you've never lied about that – but all this thinking that you claim to do about me, do some of that thinking next time you decide I don't matter and Red John is all that does."

That did it, actually; while my words were honest and not designed to draw out his kisses that is what they have done. Patrick Jane is kissing me through the material of my dress, pressing his hands against my hips and pressing affectionate kisses from my shoulder to my neck.

"You'll always matter, Teresa."

He whispers those words into my neck before he draws me into the tightest embrace I have ever been a part of. And I think it is these kisses that are making me brave.

"That's not true either, is it? I know someday Red John will manipulate you or provoke you into forgetting everything you have said to me tonight. I know one day you will forget that I matter, you will ignore that I am _superior to everyone else_ and you will leave me behind and you won't apologise and you won't regret it. I know all of this and I am still here. Do you understand that, Patrick? Do you ever _think _about what that means?"

"I'll never forget how much you matter, Teresa."

And I think it's his lack of denial of the truth of my words that makes me finally braver than even I was a few seconds ago. At least he is honest enough in this. I know that what I am about to say will change everything; just as surely as I know I won't allow us the pretence of misinterpretation this time. Even if I whisper this it will feel like shouting; these words are too huge and too wretched to ever be small.

"I love you, Patrick."

And everything changes.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Apologies for the delay in updating, won't happen again. Thanks again to everyone who takes the time to comment or follow the story, I genuinely really appreciate it.

Disclaimer – These characters clearly don't belong to me – I'm simply making them do what I want for a little while.

Falling Slowly – Chapter 5

I can feel my heart pumping inside my chest; can almost believe I feel my blood running through my veins. And I can similarly feel Teresa Lisbon trying to remove herself from my arms; which is frankly the most horrible, horrible way that this could finish.

Everything just changed.

Teresa Lisbon loves me. Out loud – she loves me. I think she might have loved me in this way for about three minutes, but since hearing the words I have been panicking about how to respond – so I could be wrong about exactly how long we have been in this new state of existence.

But as I mentioned apparently I have hesitated too long – which is laughable, obviously, as my countless years of inaction would bear witness too – and Teresa is trying to remove herself from my hold.

"Jane, let me go."

"We've been over this Teresa; that is not an acceptable proposal. Not ever."

I reclaim my hold on her, my arms wrapping easily round her slight figure; enjoying very much that I can enfold her entirely within my arms.

"Jane, I'm not kidding, let me go."

The sweet warmth of Lisbon against me is abruptly taken away, as Teresa wrenches herself out of my hold and moves away from me; turning her back as she moves quickly to distance herself from our brief moment of intimacy.

"Where are you going Teresa, I rather imagined we were in the middle of something quite remarkable just now."

I can't imagine why she even would want to be in the same room as me, I just heard how insufferable I must sound.

"No, Jane; we're not in the _middle _we're done now. And I'm tired, so maybe it's time to go back to your motel or go to work or somewhere else that isn't here ..."

I realise that Teresa has turned her back on me to hide her tears; damnable woman. I follow her, as I always will, trying to find my way back into her arms.

"I'm tired too. I thought I was Patrick tonight, what just happened?"

That at least gets a reaction; Teresa spins round to look at me as though I am the crazy man I would undoubtedly have become without her steadying presence in my life. She is beautiful in the low light of her living room, though the tear tracks are visible evidence of my utter worthlessness. I close the remaining distance between us, lifting my fingers on pure reflex to wipe away her tears. I leave the palm of my hand against the curve of her cheek, delighting that Teresa can't seem to prevent herself from instinctively moving closer to the warmth of my touch. Feeling her skin against my hand evokes the kind of happiness I have been unfamiliar with for years.

"It's time for you to go, Patrick."

That she continues to seek out my touch is comforting, though it might be completely at odds with the words she is whispering to me. I stroke the pad of my thumb against her cheek bone and my stomach clenches in something like happiness as Teresa closes her eyes in pleasure as I touch her.

"I can't leave, Teresa, you must know that."

Teresa opens her eyes and I am subjected to the horrifying sight of more tears; selfishly I pull her back into my arms, burying my face in her hair as I hide from the sadness written all over her face. She remains as stubborn as always, refusing to return my hug and instead stands with her arms limply at her side.

"I can't keep repeating myself Patrick, you need to go. Please. Please don't make me ask you again."

"I know I've behaved exactly as you would have expected tonight Teresa, but I don't mean to. Please, give me a few minutes to talk to you – and if you still want me to leave then I will go away and lie awake all night in my attic. I promise."

I didn't lie to Teresa when I told her I was unwilling to let her go, but I force myself to loosen my hold on her as I move back to look her in the eyes again. She is genuinely the bravest person I have ever known; regardless of how I treat her, or seem to betray her she never fails to offer me honesty when I look in her eyes. I don't acknowledge often how lucky I know that makes me, but I intend to tonight. I need to act before Teresa has the chance to simply throw me out of her apartment, something we both know she is more than capable of. So instead of giving her any choice, I simply take her hand in mine and lead her over to her couch. I sit and pull her down beside me, keeping her hand in mine to let her know I need her absolute attention. Which is a lie, again; I keep her hand in mine as now that I have touched her I find myself simply unable to let go. I was sensible to keep my distance all these years, as it turns out I _am_ in fact powerless to resist the softness of her skin.

"Teresa, I've behaved badly tonight."

She gives a little sad laugh when I say this, and tries to pull her hand out of mine to move away from me. I don't let her; I won't ever let her do that. Strange that I can admit this to myself and yet I struggle so badly to articulate these words to this lovely women who has stood beside me all these years. I tighten my hold on her hand and turn to face her so she can see the truth of my words, at least I hope she will be able to read the truth of them.

"Okay, you can laugh at me if you want Teresa so I will admit to _bad_ behaviour on more occasions that tonight – and you know I will disappoint you in the future too, you've always known that about me. I could blame Red John for this; blame my relentless pursuit of him for my tendency to be an idiot… But Teresa, I was entirely capable of being unbearable _before _him. You know me well enough to know that, of course."

"You're rambling Jane, this isn't necessary."

"I am rambling, and it's wholly necessary. What you said to me tonight…"

"Don't. Please don't be obliged to pity me, or say anything you can deny or forget when it suits your purpose to. I'm a big girl, I'm fine. I meant what I said, I don't regret it and that's it. You're not obliged to return my feelings, you're not obliged to do anything – you've never indulged my feelings in the past."

"Teresa…"

"I'm sorry that's unfair and not true actually. Sorry. Look, it's been a long night and we're both tired. I plan on sleeping all day tomorrow and I'd like to get started on that as soon as possible. You should stay in a hotel tonight; sleep in a real bed this weekend."

She manages to escape my grasp this time as she stands and starts to walk to her door; I imagine I am supposed to follow her. So I do, of course. But I won't do what I am _supposed_ to, I do what I want. For the first time in as long as I can remember my impulse is to experience happiness, warmth and peace. All that remains now is that I convince Teresa she is all of these things to me. So I follow as I said I would, but when she turns to hand me my jacket I take it and throw it to the floor; once again pulling Teresa into my arms and surrendering to her warmth.

"What are you doing?"  
"I would have hoped that was obvious my dear."

My arms encircle her waist, my lips at her temple and I patiently wait for her capitulation. I squeeze her a little, and place the softest of kisses against her skin, begging in my own way for her to give in. Give in Teresa, please; for us.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I would have _thought _that too was obvious my dear."

My words are whispered into her hair as she finally, finally moves her arms to wrap around me in return. I allow us this for a few moments, standing with our arms wrapped around each other – I had genuinely forgotten the pure pleasure of holding someone you love in your arms. I wasn't lying when I told her I can't let her go, it would be impossible for me to do that now; especially with the heightened knowledge that she miraculously returns my feelings. Now I have the small task of convincing Teresa that my holding her is honest, and that my feelings are too.

"You're so _little_ Teresa."

Well that was a genuinely brilliant attempt at convincing a woman of your utter devotion, I believe I deserve the smack I am almost certain to be on the receiving end of.

"That's the best you've got is it Jane?"

I can feel the warmth of her breath against my chest as she whispers these words to me; frankly she could say anything to me when I can feel the exhalation of her breath against me like that.

"That sounded more complimentary in my head Teresa. I meant you are petite, and lovely and perfect, frankly."

"Hush."

I can tell she is both smiling and blushing even though her face is buried in my chest and I am unable to see her lovely reaction to my words. I pull her closer to me and kiss her temple again.

"I was trying to tell you that I know you always protect me, that I am still here because I have had you to watch over me all these years. And I find it remarkable that there is such strength and power in such a diminutive package. I am so grateful for you and your strength Teresa, but tonight I wanted to ask you the favour of allowing me to protect you. You've been protecting me for years, let me do this; allow me this."

"I don't know what you're talking about Jane."

"Patrick, I'm going to have to insist you call me Patrick."

"Well I don't know what either of you mean then."

I loosen my hold on her slightly, moving so I can look into her eyes. I stare at her, frankly; humbled again by the honesty I can always find in her eyes. This connection we have when we look into each other's eyes has always been palpable but tonight the intensity is tangible. I could forgo the words I am about to say and I think Teresa would still understand what I am trying to communicate.

"Call me Patrick tonight, please?"

Her eyes are huge and luminously beautiful as she smiles at me for the first time in what feels like hours.

"Patrick."

It's my turn to close my eyes in pleasure; the subtle nuances of her voice as she says my name is almost enough to drive me to forgetting that I intend to only _talk _with this woman tonight. I bravely open my eyes again and am faced with the bewitching sight of Teresa Lisbon smiling with a look of utter happiness on her face; she looks beautiful happy, I would be a complete idiot if I were to ever cause her not to smile. This knowledge will not prevent me causing her sadness in the future, I know that and yet I can't stop myself from what I know I will have to do. I should be saying some of these words out loud, that is the very least that Teresa deserves from me. My hands are on her slim hips and my eyes locked with hers as I finally confess the truth to her.

"I need you to understand that you are the most important person in my life. He is not more important than you are, please accept that as fact. What you said to me tonight, it means everything to me because it means I can have a future. And you must know I feel the same way, but I can't… Teresa, I can't share words with you while he lives. He _knows _me, you know how well Red John has come to know me – and if I were to tell you what I feel I wouldn't be able to hide it from him. I wouldn't be able to protect you."

"Patrick, I don't _need _you to protect me."

My fingers tighten on her hips, pulling her closer to me, our chests almost touching now.

"Don't you understand Teresa, I _need _to protect you. He destroys people I care about – he eviscerated my family; I won't allow him to do that for a second time. _He knows me; _imagine what he could do."

"I don't want you imagining that Patrick, please tell me that's not a reason you don't sleep – you shouldn't be thinking of scenarios that might not even happen."

"I have to; I have to be ready for anything."

It's Teresa who moves to offer comfort this time, her fingers trailing across my cheek and then dangerously her thumb slides across my bottom lip.

"I want you to live too, Patrick, don't forget about that."

"I won't, I promise. I want you to know something, and I want you to listen to me – maybe listen to what I don't say and know that those silent, unspoken words are for you."

I give in to my new compulsion and pull Teresa back into my arms, resting my head back against her temple as I try and convince her of my devotion.

"I want you to know that I won't tell you how I feel until this is over, until I have achieved what you don't want me to. I know we will deal with that hurdle when we have to. But first I want you to know and accept exactly what I am telling you when I buy you expensive coffee, or make you stop and eat some lunch I've bought for you. I want you to know what I'm telling you when I do these things for you. I want you to know what I am thinking when I try and take care of you a little, and I desperately need for you to let me. I want you to accept as truth what I am telling you when I call you Teresa. Do you understand? Please tell me you understand what I'm telling you Teresa…"

I kiss her forehead, marvelling at the sensation of a trembling Teresa Lisbon in my arms. I run my fingers down her spine, soothing her as much as I am able to with my touch.

"I understand, Patrick."

"Okay then."

And that should be it, if I were a better man I would leave her alone to come to terms with this oddly wonderful development in our lives. But Teresa Lisbon hasn't chosen a _better _man, she chose me.

"Can I stay here tonight Teresa? I just mean to sleep, really I do. I'd like to sleep beside you for a few hours tonight if you would let me."

"This isn't healthy Patrick you know, or sane."

"I know, but I don't care – it's us."

"You really are insufferable, you know."

"I do indeed know that, but my question remains – can I sleep here tonight?"

"You know you can."

So I follow Teresa upstairs to her bedroom and sit down on her bed as she goes about her nightly routine. I can hear her in the bathroom washing her face and brushing her teeth – it takes every ounce of restraint I have to stop myself from going in to watch her. It's been too long since I've shared this level of intimacy with someone. I'm smiling as I sit here, unused to this feeling of contentment, as Teresa leaves the bathroom scrubbed free of make-up and wearing a white bathrobe. She looks utterly adorable.

"Patrick, there are towels and a spare tooth brush in the bathroom if you want to get ready for bed."

"Thank you my dear."

So I brush my teeth at the same sink Teresa has just used, look at myself in the same mirror that moments before held her lovely reflection. I could get used to this so easily, I hope one day I get the chance to. I remove my vest and my shoes and wash my face. When I return to the bedroom Teresa is already in bed, watching me as I place my clothes on a chair by her bedside.

"Come to bed, Patrick."

Those are the four most profound words anyone has spoken to me in years.

I do as I am told, obviously.

I climb under the covers, ridiculously comfortable suddenly despite the fact I'm still wearing my trousers and shirt.

"These are expensive sheets Teresa; you like to pamper yourself after all."

"Are you going to tease me even now?"

And she's right of course, what am I doing? I reach for her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing her softly as appeasement and apology.

"Will you try and sleep, Patrick?"

"Of course, I usually _try_ it just doesn't always happen."

We are lying close together, our heads resting on the same pillow. I'm exhausted suddenly, and I know Teresa can barely keep her eyes open – she wasn't lying earlier when she confessed how tired she was. We should both try and get some rest.

"Teresa, can I hold you tonight?"

Even I can hear how pathetic those words are, but I hold my breath nonetheless as I wait for an answer.

"You know what, Patrick, my bed means my rules; I get to hold you for a little while."

Like I said before; she is utterly adorable. I rest my head against her chest as Teresa wraps her arms around me; I close my eyes and rest in the warmth of her embrace.

When I wake up it's clearly morning, the early morning sunshine feels warm against my back. I have moved slightly in my sleep, I wake with head on Teresa's stomach – thrilling doesn't even come close to describing it. I kiss her warm skin through the fabric of the large baseball jersey she sleeps in.

"Morning Patrick."

Sleepy Lisbon is every bit as cute as I hoped she would be.

"Good morning Teresa."

I push against the boundaries of what I should allow myself and kiss her stomach again, resting my lips against the fabric of her shirt as I imagine a time when this could be my life.

Not yet, however.

"I have to go, Teresa."

"I know."

"You're lovely to wake up to Teresa."

Those are not flattering words, just truth.

I leave the warmth of Teresa Lisbon's bed, find my vest and shoes and promise myself I will find my way back to this room, and this woman. Teresa is spectacular in her sleep wear as she follows me downstairs to see me out. I won't be able to hug her goodbye as I don't think I have the strength to resist her when she is so apparently vulnerable and utterly lovely.

I face her as I slip into my jacket, trying to say my goodbyes and inadequately thank her for the most restful night I have spent in ten years.

"Please don't work this weekend Teresa, relax and be good to yourself. I'll see you Monday morning, I'll bring you coffee."

She smiles that gorgeous smile of hers and with strength I didn't know I had, I smile at her in return and walk out of her door and head towards my car.

"Patrick."

Her voice is soft, but insistent so I turn around to face her as she throws herself into my arms. There is a big part of me that is elated she is not making this easy for me, that she never will.

"You have to take care of yourself too Patrick, and if you want to sleep then you come here and sleep. You understand? You can always come here to rest."

I tighten my arms around here, choking on the words I can't say yet. But I have to say something.

"You do know I'll always choose you over him. If it came down to it, it would always be you…"

I pull back to look at her, to tell whether she believes me or not but she beats me to it.

"I don't believe you."

Those words are not said with disappointment or anger, just acceptance.

"You will, one day soon you will believe me Teresa. Now get inside before you cause an accident being outside dressed like that."

She blushes endearingly as I watch her reluctantly return to her apartment; I stare at her door long after it's closed and Teresa is safely inside.

I can feel an ending in the future; I just hope it's one I will live through.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, am simply borrowing them for the purposes of this country. Well Jill is mine, but she's not really the big draw.

AN: Thanks for the continued comments, and honesty from all of those who take time to review – much appreciated. I should say that this story may be about to take a turn towards angst – so if that's not what you are in the mood for, then perhaps you should avoid.

Falling Slowly Chapter 6

It's 11am on a Saturday morning and I'm lying in bed. If you knew me well you would realise this is not normal; not even in the neighbourhood of normal. But then it's been a weird few days.

I slept with Jane last night.

Actually I slept with Patrick.

Not even in the neighbourhood of normal.

Of course it couldn't just _be_ normal; he was wearing most of his suit and there was certainly not even the slightest hint of him trying to get me out of the sleep wear I had on. And yet… It was perfect; truly perfect. I feel like I should say this again for the record; last night I slept in the same bed as Patrick Jane. I didn't sleep very much, but _he_ did and the knowledge that he was able to rest is so precious to me that I think I can face anything today.

He is still Jane, obviously, he retreated as soon as he could; but I think he regretted leaving – and I am almost certain he will come back. We talked last night more than we have in all the years we have known each other I think. Actually I could almost hide my head in my pillow when I think of all that I told him; but then that would just not be dignified because I am still me. Maybe that's what we've both acknowledged at the same time, we can remain as we are while changing _what we are to each other_ so completely.

Anyway, he is still the same Jane I have known all these years. I mean he left this morning, I am in bed this late in the day and I am alone. He will keep leaving until all of this is over, maybe even after that. But last night he seemed to want more; and I am almost certain he wants more _after. _So he is out there now with his thoughts and plans for how to trap the man who has haunted him for so long. And I think now he is planning too that he could be here for _after, _that Red John will not necessarily destroy the rest of his life too. That maybe, and I hope so much that I am not getting this wrong, that just maybe a future with me is not only possible but necessary.

Anyway I know I shouldn't still be in bed obsessing over Jane on one of my rare days off, but last night felt like an occasion to be commemorated in some way. So when Jane left me earlier I simply climbed back into bed, buried my nose in the sheet where he had been lying and feel back asleep. Like I said earlier, I didn't sleep much through the night so maybe I deserved some rest finally. I think I certainly deserved the chance to reflect on all that has happened in the last day or two.

I know I should get up; I need to do laundry and grocery shopping and maybe even go for a run but I'm finding it difficult to leave my bed. I can smell Jane and it feels like something of his remains with me in here. I understand rationally how ridiculous that is, but I'm wallowing today. I'm allowing myself the luxury of admitting (even just to me) that I spent the night with someone I am in love with, and the world didn't end. If I stay in this bed then I can pretend that maybe there will be no consequences to spending the night with Jane, that maybe we'll be okay. I know that's very unlikely, but the warmth of my sheets holds the scent of Patrick Jane and I want to remain in this little bubble of happiness for as long as I can.

I don't think I've ever been more intimate with anyone than I was with Jane last night, the unspoken acknowledgement that he wanted comfort from _me _was a precious gift I didn't ever think I would receive. The weight of his body lying against mine is something I will cling to when I have a bad day, or when he disappears and hurts me all over again. I spent most of the night on the edge of sleep, never quite succumbing to the temptation to close my eyes. Instead I had a chance to study Patrick Jane without fear of interruption, and without fear of anyone paying any attention to my unguarded adoration of him.

He slept with his head leaning heavily against my chest all night, his arm draped around my body, lying against the curve of my hip for hours. I got to feel his breath on my skin as he relaxed in sleep, and I soothed him with the touch of my fingers along the length of his spine when he became agitated while he slept. I gave in to the temptation to run my fingers through his hair, tracing the curls to mollify myself as much as him. I could happily spend the rest of my life sleeping with him like that.

Well, maybe the experience would be improved if Jane wasn't wearing quite so many clothes; but for the moment I will accept whatever he is willing to give me.

I need to get up, I really do; I think I could easily waste all day in bed with these indulgent thoughts. I don't want to turn into a complete idiot after one night sleeping in the same bed as Jane; how would I be if we had actually made love?

Okay. Where did that come from?

I mean I'm a grown woman, when I spend the night in bed with a man the most thrilling part of the evening is usually more intense that me running the tips of my fingers along the lines of my partners face… But that was a definite high point of my year when I got to do that last night. And perhaps the freedom of that touch has me thinking of more, but I suppose that's normal too. I _should _be able to admit to myself (and hopefully one day Jane) that I don't just want to be in whatever this is for the noble self-sacrifice.

But I don't have to resolve all of these issues today, but it's been calming to have this time to think. Or fret, I suppose; but I'm allowed to do that from the comfort of my own bed.

I should leave my bed now and go and do something useful with my day; maybe in five more minutes.

I've jinxed myself, brought all of this on myself by being so lazy. I can hear the buzz of my cell phone beside my bed. Work really wasn't supposed to intrude on my plans this weekend. Maybe I can work from my bed.

Maybe I should remember I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon and just answer my damn phone.

"Lisbon. What?"

"Well hi to you too my darling."

Jill. I'm not sure whether I am ready for a Jill conversation; I should be at least wearing pants for one of those.

"Sorry, hey Jill, I thought you were work, I didn't check caller id. Sorry. You okay? Did you get back home okay?"

"Of course I did, this is me checking up on you so there will be no discussions about my life. This is a conversation about you and Blondie. Tell me details Teresa Lisbon."

I knew I wasn't going to be up to this.

"I haven't had coffee yet today, Jill, I'm not up to this conversation yet."

"No coffee, why? Goodness am I interrupting; is Blondie there just now cursing me for disrupting his fun. Oh, please tell me he is?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, but Jane isn't here."

"Well, that's unacceptable didn't you invite him over? Don't make me come back there and yell at you both. I can't believe you; the man was staring at you at dinner last night. I mean he was _staring_ at you. I've been dying to call but thought I would let the two of you have a little morning time together. I can't believe neither of you made a move, you're impossible Teresa."

"He did sleep here last night."

That will at least make her take a breath before she rants at me some more.

"What? Really, oh that's too perfect. Okay I want details, and you're going to have to be quick because I am about to go to the Gap to buy my husband jeans. Look at your life versus mine, you get to sleep with Blondie and I am going out to buy my husband clothes because he can't accept that his ass hanging out of all his current jeans is unacceptable. Details."

"That was a lot of information for me to process before coffee Jill, and now I have an image in my head I really don't want to be in there."

"Tell me about it darling, I have to take action before he scares the kids. So I need to go shopping really soon, but not until you tell me things. _So tell me things."_

"You know I'm not very good at sharing this sort of stuff Jill, and do I have to mention _again _the lack of coffee?"

"Darling just go make yourself some coffee while you're talking to me, it can't be that difficult and it's not like I've called you at 6am. You're still in bed, aren't you? Goodness was it that fantastic that you are unable to drag yourself from the bed of love."

"You're doing this on purpose just to annoy me; if you don't stop talking like a crazy woman then I'm hanging up."

I swing my legs out of bed and head downstairs, I really do need that coffee and some toast would be really good. It feels decadent to be slumming around my home in my sleep shirt, but no one can see so for once I'm going to let it slide.

"Sorry darling, I'm just playing with you. I know you hate to tell anyone anything but thought I might be able to steal a few details. Okay, let me ask you questions. Are you happy this morning?"

I will be when my coffee is ready.

"Teresa conversations on the phone work much better if both people speak."

"I'm not unhappy."

"Okay, well that sounds good. Let me ask you another questions, did Blondie sleep with you in your bed?"

Am I just going to let the _Blondie_ thing slide? It's probably just going to be easier frankly if I do.

"Yes, Jane slept in the same bed as I did."

"Oh my, this is huge. Is he as gorgeous as I think he might be; I really like his shoulders, does he have good biceps. I was looking at him at dinner last night, and I really noticed his shoulders."

"_You noticed his shoulders? _Do you hear yourself when you say these things?"

"I only talk like this to a few select people, you just happen to be one of them. And I maintain he has pleasingly masculine shoulders, and I wanted your opinion now that you might have experienced them in their natural form."

"Does that mean you think I've seen him with his shirt off?"

"Well I would hope so, didn't you just mention you'd slept together."

"We slept in the same bed, but Jane was fully clothed. It wasn't the fun night you've been hoping for, but it was a good thing that we slept in the same bed."

"Teresa I think you've been single too long, sleeping with fully clothed men is only something that happens when both of you are too tired to do anything else. Did you forget how to undo buttons?"

"Jill, look I've made coffee and now I'm going to drink it and get on with my day; stop making fun of me and leave me alone."

"Sorry. Are you okay?"

"I am, sort of."

"Okay, that's not the worst you've ever been. Is Patrick okay?"

"No, not really; but it's not the worst he's ever been either."

"Okay, do you want to talk about or should I call you when you've had time to process it?"

"There's nothing to process, I told him I loved him. He told me in a roundabout way that he has feelings for me too, but that there is a serial killer that has more of his attention now. But he also said that I am more important than anyone else, and he really has me wanting to believe that."

"Then believe it, I would imagine Patrick is a man of his word."

"You make it sound simple."

"Oh darling love is never simple, but that's what makes it glorious. And it gets you through the bad times, like having to go and buy your partner clothes so he doesn't get arrested for exposure."

"You should probably do that then."

"I should. Are you okay, really? Can I call you in a few days; I promise I won't give you a hard time. You can just say things out loud and make sense of them outside of your head, maybe work through some stuff. Does that sound okay?"

"It does, actually. I'm going to take the weekend to myself, and try not to worry too much."

"Okay, please do that. And if I'm really good then you'll tell me what if felt like to run your fingers through those gorgeous blonde curls of Mr Jane's."

"What makes you think I would know the answer to that?"

"Because you can be foolish sometimes but you're not an idiot and I can practically feel you blushing over the phone Teresa. I mean _I've _fantasised about running my fingers through his hair and I only met him yesterday; goodness only knows what levels of restraint you must have been using after ten years."

"I'm going now, I'd like to get dressed before dinner time. Buy yourself some shirts at the Gap, be good to yourself today Jill."

"Oh darling, I'm buying myself wine today – Stephen is buying me shirts, and I think his credit card might also want to buy me boots. Take care; and take care of Blondie too. Speak soon darling."

And just like she's gone. She didn't even give me a chance to thank her for her careless kindness. I'll do that next time I speak to her, and I should spend some time asking about _her _life and family; it would be the very least I could do.

I clear away my coffee cup, wipe the work surfaces in my kitchen and make a deal with myself that I will shower and get into my running gear and actually leave my apartment at some point today. Maybe I can go get some breakfast – or lunch – or maybe just some food and good coffee on the way back.

I won't spend the day thinking about impossible relationships, and serial killers, and blonde hair. I'm going to run, call my brothers, and get take away for dinner. I'm going to be my own version of normal this weekend.

Just as I start to go upstairs I'm interrupted from my normal by a knock at the door. I equal parts want this to be Jane and want him to leave me alone. Actually, mostly I want it to be Jane. I look through the peephole to see who is disturbing my lazy Saturday.

It's someone with flowers, well a delivery guy with flowers I suppose. Looks like Jane is intent on reminding me of his presence in my life today. It occurs to me that answering the door in my night shirt might be a little inappropriate, but I find that I suddenly really want these flowers. I half hide behind the door and extend my arm to accept the gift.

"Delivery for Teresa Lisbon?"

"Thanks so much, they're lovely."

But as I look at the offered flowers I realise they're not _lovely, _they're odd. Why would Jane have sent me red poppies? I can't claim to get flowers very often, but that is an _odd _choice. What is he trying to tell me with these?

"Do you like your flowers, Teresa? I thought you would appreciate something mournfully beautiful. I thought it was time we had a discussion of our own Agent Lisbon."

I look up and suddenly my normal weekend is over. I've wasted precious seconds worrying about flowers when I should have been worrying about the man in front of me. It feels like the most significant error of my life. I feel a needle penetrate a vein on my forearm and I wonder if the last image I will ever see is the face of this inhuman man we have been hunting for so long. I wonder if the last thought I will ever have is this one about how I failed so utterly today.

I wonder if this is going to hurt or whether I will reach oblivion before it does.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer – These characters clearly don't belong to me, am simply borrowing them for the purposes of this story.

AN: This short chapter is much darker in tone than the others – if that's not something you want to read then maybe you leave this story now. Tempted to change the rating – but nothing graphic here, just talk of unsettling behaviour.

Falling Slowly Chapter Seven

She is smaller than I imagined now that I am this close to her, almost insubstantial. It remains to be seen whether she is worth this time I am going to spend with her. I can wrap my hand round the top of her arm as I lead her back into her home, the slenderness of her frame suggesting that she might not be as worthy as an opponent as I have always assumed.

That of course will be resolved over the next few days, how she responds is almost insignificant I suppose; she will die quickly or it will take time. I know which I would prefer but the outcome will be the same. It would just be so much more fun if she were able to participate in our dalliance for as long as possible. And I'm certain Patrick will appreciate that Teresa is amongst friends who will give her their full attention.

I intend to give her my absolute attention now that we are alone.

I force her into a sitting position on her couch and sit across from her so that I might share with her our schedule for the next several days.

"Teresa, you have probably ten minutes or so before what I gave you knocks you out; I must apologise for drugging you like this. I want you to know that it's my intention to have you conscious through our time together, but obviously we need to leave your apartment so it's simpler to inhibit your movement while we take you to your final residence. Some friends of mine will be here very soon to help me escort you there, so luckily we get to spend a few minutes together first."

"Do me a favour and spare me the civility. Take me where you're gonna take me, and let's just get this over with."

"You need to learn how to speak to guests, Teresa. No wonder you're still single if this is how you talk to men who bring you flowers. Actually, we should get these in water – leave them on show for Patrick to find, am sure he'll just _hate _that someone else has been spoiling you with gifts. I hope you have a vase that will do them justice."

"I keep the trash in the kitchen."

"Insolence is not attractive Teresa, and I will tire of it quickly. Maybe we'll just leave the flowers to wither; perhaps Patrick will appreciate the symbolism."

I think perhaps Agent Lisbon _will_ be a worthy opponent; she is fighting off the effects of the drug with admirable fortitude. I'm going to enjoy this very much.

"So Teresa, you must be wondering why I'm here."

"I assumed you wanted to go for coffee."

I lean forward quickly and land a punch across her left cheek bone, sending her sprawling across the sofa. I should be more patient, but rudeness offends me.

"Enough Teresa, you should hope I will show you more courtesy when our roles are reversed and you are my guest. We'll get there soon; first I wanted a little chat about Patrick."

She is an admirable women really, her cheek is already swollen and her eye will certainly blacken as the minutes pass but Teresa is sitting up again as though I hadn't just nearly knocked her unconscious. And she truly must be on the edge of consciousness as the drug I administered works its way through her system, but I can see her straighten her spine and try to remain as dignified as possible in her current state of undress. It's no wonder Patrick has such affection for her, I mean it's a shame for her really that he chose her and brought her into our little argument.

"I was listening to what you and Patrick spoke about last night."

This gets a pleasing reaction, best described I think as a look of utter nausea passing across her lovely features.

"You've bugged my apartment?"

"I have. We've been enjoying listening to you for a while, though admittedly last night was the most interesting of your performances. It did give me the insight that I needed, obviously Patrick needs reminding of my place in his life. I confess it hurt to hear that _you _are the most significant person in his life; I had always assumed the journey we were on together was mutual."

Her eyes are starting and she is fighting harder and harder to stay conscious, to give me the last of her attention.

"Before you sleep Teresa I wanted to leave you with an image to dream about. Do you remember all that Patrick spoke to you about last night; I do. He asked you a very interesting question at one point – and that certainly got _my _attention. He mentioned me, I think I can quote him - "_he knows me; imagine what he could do." _I took that to be something of a challenge Teresa; just think how much Patrick is going to imagine all of the things I could do to you. Just visualise how tortured he will be in your absence."

"He will find you, and he will stop you."

"But Teresa, you will be dead so you will never know for sure. You've wasted all these years of your life chasing after me, and I've simply walked through your front door and put an end to it all. But I can promise you a glorious ending if that is something you would be interested in."

I crouch down in front of the couch, holding Teresa by the arm to focus the last of her remaining attention on what I am about to say. I want her to hallucinate about my words when she is under. I hold her steady with one hand while the other moves to hold her cross between my figures.

"I find it fascinating that you are a woman with faith, it moves me on some level. It's beautiful that you carry this iconography with you every day, believing in his significance and power. What I thought might be fun is if I used this as inspiration for your final journey Teresa."

She unblinkingly meets my eyes as I confess my plans to her, and I do admire her courage; but she must soon accept that courage is no weapon against a blade.

"I think it would be a wonderfully devastating scene for Patrick to walk in on if you were sacrificed in a similar way. The crucifixion is an image of such power, to find you like that would literally bring the man to his knees. Don't you think that's a worthy end for you Teresa? You would bring Patrick and I back together, which has been your true role in this game all along."

"I'm not afraid of you, you can do what you want but I refuse to be afraid."

"I admire that Teresa, but I can honestly tell you that will change when I begin my work on you. But that's in our very near future, you going to sleep first."

And I'm correct as Teresa finally succumbs to unconsciousness. My phone is ringing; my associates are outside so we will be able to transport Teresa to a place we can work more efficiently. I get to have a little fun here first though; I need to leave my clichéd little calling card to let them know exactly who Agent Lisbon will spend her last hours with.

I move to her kitchen, removing a perfectly ordinary knife from a rack on the counter and prepare to go to work. This is always my favourite part, the possibilities for exploring my work on another new canvas never fails to thrill.

I'm going to enjoy this very much.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, am just spending time with them for the purposes of this story.

AN: Again sincere thanks to those who review and follow this story, hope you're enjoying reading it as much as I am enjoying the writing. This is a short chapter to get us closer to where we need to be. Part of Patricks plan here is borrowed directly from Season 5.

Falling Slowly Chapter 8

Today has been challenging in a way I have not experienced for so many years. I have been completely unable to work because I have been incapable of thinking today. Well, that's not quite true, I've been able to _think_ but the focus of my attention has not been Red John or how I can come closer to finding him… Instead my focus has been on Agent Teresa Lisbon and how I can stay as close by her as is proper.

We slept together last night, and _one_ of the miracles of that statement is that I actually slept.

I asked her if I could sleep with her, sleep _beside _her; what an appalling excuse for a man I have become. The worst of it is Lisbon accepts me as I am, that must be true or I wouldn't have spent the night sleeping beside her. It also must be true as she told me she loves me.

That's the important fact my mind has been turning to all day.

Well, that and the immeasurable pleasure to be found in sharing a warm bed with Teresa Lisbon.

So instead of coming any closer to the truth of the identity of Red John; instead of _working _today I have found myself thinking about the warmth of her skin against mine as I woke this morning. I have spent countless minutes wondering about returning to her bed; wishing that the luxury of her company would be something I could enjoy regularly enough that it would become commonplace.

Not that it would ever be likely that I would take Lisbon for granted; we've waited far too long for that ever to happen.

Anyway, I've been in my attic today instead of with Lisbon and for the first time I can appreciate how much of an idiot that makes me. I want to share my time with her, we crossed a line yesterday and I know I don't have the necessary strength to pull back now. I meant what I said to her, however, I won't tell her I love her until this is over. I won't _tell _her until Red John is in the ground.

That doesn't mean I won't think about her, and that doesn't mean I don't wish things could be different; I do know how she deserves a better life than the one she currently endures because of me.

It's a mark of my selfishness that I want to go back to her home; I don't want to be here today doing _this, _instead I would be content to sit with Lisbon in her home and hold her hand.

I'll keep that thought to myself I think, Lisbon would certainly laugh at me for my idiocy and probably even smack me for it.

But it's in this way, thinking about the perfect happiness of holding Lisbon's hand, that I have passed most of my time today. I left her apartment early, not trusting myself to stay with her any longer for fear of what I might talk myself into allowing to happen between us. It's been a struggle to not get in my car and return to her again to intrude on her Saturday.

I know that it's even more important now that we find Red John, for the first time in ten years I actually have something to lose. Well, I have _someone _to lose – and I spend a lot of time worrying just how close Red John is to realising that.

So I sit here going round in circles; I know I should concentrate and carry on with my work and yet I find myself thinking instead of how good it felt to hold Lisbon in my arms last night. I didn't enjoy her tears, but the words we shared and simply holding her close felt like a healing had begun. I want more of that, and more of her.

It's 4pm, is that too early to give up working on a Saturday? I mean normally I would be content to sit here long into the night and work through my thoughts – but even I know that won't happen tonight. I'll sit here, or probably lie here and wonder what Lisbon is doing. I know it's pathetic but I have had a glimpse of what my life could be, and I want that very powerfully to be a reality.

I made promises that I would be smart and resist what I want until this pursuit is over, and a few short hours later I find myself already planning how I can go back on those promises so that I might find warmth and comfort.

I want to go back to Lisbons. I know it's not sensible, I know I put us both at further risk – but I want to rest beside her tonight. I want to spend Sunday with her. To spend a _day _with her with no agenda other than being in the same place, I believe that might make me happy. And I also dare to suppose it would make Lisbon happy too.

I don't want to be in this attic tonight, that doesn't mean I am surrendering or have lost my furious desire to capture the man that ended my life and the lives of my beautiful family; sincerely that could _never _be a possibility. But I have a similarly irresistible compulsion to spend time with the person left in the world who seems to love me.

I accept all the arguments I made against this before, and I maintain the truth of them – but… I want to see her. I miss her, and she might not ever let me live that down. Or maybe not, maybe she will simply open her arms and let me hold her. Any combination of either of those will be more reward than I could ever deserve.

It was fascinating to watch Lisbon last night when we went to dinner with her friend Jill; and to hear stories of her life away from the office and me. I want her life away from the office to include me, which means I need to have a life away from this attic.

I know I shouldn't want that tonight, I know I shouldn't be putting her in anymore danger than I already do. But I want to spend time with her. I meant what I said to her this morning, I _will_ always choose her over Red John – and today I want my brain to be consumed with thoughts of Lisbon and not him.

My decision is already made I think; I am going to return to her apartment and ask her to let me stay there again. She offered that shelter to me this morning before I left; I had assumed I would have the strength to resist her comfort a little longer. I am not completely sorry that I find myself utterly unable to resist her any longer; and I can kid myself that by being close to her I can keep her safer from Red John than if I stay on the other side of the city.

I'm uneasy with what bargains I have to make with myself to ensure her continued safety, and the safety of the whole team to be honest. I have failed so profoundly until now trying to protect people I care about; I find that my isolation and desperation has only worked so far. We have come closest to finding Red John since I started to let people in, since I let myself acknowledge that I do have a partner in this life.

I think the most workable option is that I spend time with Lisbon, assuming she will let me, and then I retreat. I will come back to this attic and won't leave until I am closer to having figured out the identity of Red John. I know we are so close now, I think if I lock myself away for a week or so then I will be able to concentrate my efforts into reducing the list of possible suspects to a resolution. I'll tell myself that so I won't despair over the futility of locking myself in a room to try and earn my freedom from this pursuit; or the futility of choosing to separate myself from Lisbon.

I get out my phone and text Lisbon that I am on my over to her home.

Texting Lisbon to tell her I am on my way to _our _home is another fantasy of mine that I hope to make true in the time to come. Not anytime soon clearly, but it's an image I can keep close to me through the inevitable dark days to come.

I have spent so long in this attic room that my being here has become habit; clearly it's easier to conceal myself from the world than exist in it. I am hoping that Lisbon, that Teresa, will allow me to hideout at her apartment. And I don't care about the place evidently; I want to hideout with Lisbon. I seem to have persuaded myself that I can't possibly put her in any more danger than I already have; and that a few days with her would be enough for me to live on until we finally catch him and we can start to contemplate moving on.

I know I shouldn't be getting in my car and heading towards Teresa again, but I am being selfish as I so often am – I have relived last night and the moments we shared this morning all day in my mind, I need more of that easy warmth . I slept beside Lisbon, and she held me through the night; I would appreciate the opportunity to return that affection. To close my eyes later and have Teresa curled beside me would be as perfect a way to end the day that I could ever hope for.

The early evening weekend traffic is light, and I think about stopping on the way for food or even flowers for her. I know I should, but that would make my journey time longer. We can order take-out and I promise myself that when we have come through this I will buy her flowers so often she will tire of them.

I park my car in the closest spot I can to Lisbon's apartment, realising suddenly that she has not responded to the text message I sent earlier. That is very unlike Lisbon, if she didn't want me to come over I don't think she would be shy about telling me. Maybe I've gotten this a little wrong; she could of course have plans and be out for the evening.

If that were true would I sit in my car and wait for her to come home, because I think that might be a level I am happy to stoop to. Hopefully she is home, and there's a perfectly reasonable explanation why Lisbon would ignore her message.

But actually she never ignores messages; I don't think she has it in her. She always answers calls, that's her job and I flatter myself by thinking she wouldn't ignore contact from me today.

I move as quickly as I can to her door, anxious now for her soothing presence to convince me that my worrying is simply my over active imagination.

Her door is open.

The front door to her apartment is ajar.

Lisbon isn't responding to messages on her phone and her door is open.

I push gently against the door and enter her apartment, already terrified of what I might find despite my hoping for a reasonable explanation to resolve all this.

There is a horrific explanation.

He has been here.

He has left his mark on the wall.

There are flowers on the floor, beside them there is blood. So much blood.

She is not here, I know that.

He has her.

I was already too late. I am always too late.

I swallow down the urgent need to vomit and dial the second most used number on my cell phone.

"Jane. What?"

"I'm at Lisbon's, she's not here. Red John has her. She's not here. He has her."

"We're coming. Stay there Jane. Don't leave. We'll be right there."

She's not here. He has her.

He has her.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, I am simply borrowing them for the purposes of this story.

AN: Okay the content in this chapter is not pleasant – so if you are looking for romance then I am afraid it is absent in this chapter. Red John is here and he has disturbing thoughts to share. Don't read this if that's not what you want to be reading.

Falling Slowly Chapter Nine

I can't seem to keep my eyes open, am I still sleeping?

Was I drinking today, I feel odd. And I can't open my eyes, I'm trying so hard but the effort of prying open my eye lids is beyond me.

Everything hurts.

I hurt.

My throat hurts, and my head is pounding, my skin hurts. There is something clearly wrong. I think I might have been attacked; there is an ache in my side that feels like a bullet wound, maybe even a stab wound. But my head is worrying me more as I can't get a focus on where I am.

I can't open my eyes.

Maybe this is a dream, maybe I should go back to sleep and it'll be okay in the morning.

I can hear James calling for me, and I think that's Tommy too. Why are they screaming at me like that? What have I done wrong?

No, no, no. no. They're not screaming at me, they're screaming _for_ me. Dad is home and I guess he's had a bad day. I need to get to them, I need to get up from here and get to my brothers.

I can't open my eyes.

I need to get to my brothers, I can hear them crying for me. I need to get dad to stop, or at least focus on me and leave the boys alone. I just need to be able to open my eyes.

Now it's my mom. My mom is shouting at me. Why is she doing that? I thought she said I could sleep late because it's the weekend. She always lets me sleep late. Okay, mom I'm coming. I'm coming mom.

I know why she wants me, we're going to Mass. I love going to Mass with my mom. I need to get up to go and do that. I need to go be with my mom. We have the best time. We get dressed in our nice dresses, and I have a blue cardigan that I only wear to go to Mass. I think I left it on the floor the other day, what did I do with my cardigan?

Will she wait for me? _Mom, _wait for me. I need to find my cardigan and then we can go together. It feels like forever since she took my hand and we walked to church together. I miss it so much; I miss the quiet of the peaceful time we spent with each other like this.

Mom, wait for me.

I can't open my eyes.

I can hear Jane now; he's somewhere just out of my reach looking for me. Why am I hurting everyone, why am I letting them down? He's yelling and he's asking for me. Where is he? What trouble has he gotten himself into now? I can hear him yelling for me and I can't get to him. What if he's being hurt? He can't always protect himself; I need to get to him before he does something stupid.

I can't open my eyes.

I need to get to Jane before Red John learns how vulnerable he is.

I can't open my eyes.

I need to get to Jane before Red John.

It hurts so much, everywhere hurts so much.

I need to focus and let myself feel the pain and concentrate on coming back. This is the worst dream I have ever had, why can't I wake up?

I can feel a severe pain in my side; I think that might be real. I think I might be in actual trouble. I'm not sure what's true. Breathe Teresa, just breathe. I can do this, I have to concentrate on the pain and work my way towards that.

"Are you ready to join us again, Teresa? I think you've been out long enough."

And just like that I understand what the pain is that I am working my way towards. I am with _him, _I am with Red John.

"Teresa. Quickly now, it's time for you to talk to some friends of ours."

I feel hands pulling at my shoulders as I am yanked into a sitting position on this bed that I am lying on. It's so funny, for a moment I could swear I smell Jane. I wanted to curl back down on the bed and return to the volatility of my dream state because I was so comforted by the scent of Jane. I don't think there will be much comfort for me in what remains of my life.

"Teresa, you are much more delicate than I could have ever imagined. That was quite the reaction to the drug I gave you; but I must say watching you in agony has been instructional and I think it might have even brought us closer. But it's time to focus Teresa; we both have work to do tonight."

I can hardly see anything, I'm not sure if it's an after effect of being drugged but also I've been beaten a little and my sight has been damaged somewhat by that. I want to move from this place and smack him so hard. If I could maybe break his nose before I am killed then this won't feel so much like a surrender. I am so cold, and I don't even want to think about what the pain in my side means. I know that I am bleeding a lot because my shirt is saturated with blood, and maybe that's why I'm cold. What am I talking about, stop worrying about the heat Teresa and start thinking about how to fight back.

I'm not going to surrender. I know it's over, but I'm not going to give him what he wants the most – I refuse to be afraid. I refuse let him see how terrified I am that I will never get to live my life, and that I will never see Jane again.

"Teresa, you need to listen to me and do as I say; you don't do as I say and I will drug you again. This time I'll give you more, and you might never find your way to consciousness again. Now that would be a disappointing end for both of us, you need a glorious and noble end to justify to yourself the resistance you will show to all this pain we are about to share… And I need to take time and enjoy what I am about to do with you. Actually, you'll notice I have a couple of friends with me – because my plans' involves props Teresa, so these guys are going to be helping us."

I swallow the bile and try and maintain eye contact with this man who has wrecked so many lives. My focus is terrible, my peripheral vision almost gone – it takes all that I have to concentrate on the gaze of this monster. I wish I had my gun with me. I wish I could just shoot him and know that he was gone from the world. I'm very much afraid he will prevail. If only I had paid more attention when I answered my door earlier, I could happily smack myself for my stupidity if I didn't think that moving my arm might just kill me.

I can't imagine what his plans are, and perhaps that is for the best; it will do me no good to focus on what he is going to do. My biggest regret is the affect all of this is going to have on other people

This will devastate my brothers; the distance between us doesn't mean we've ever forgotten we are family. Being their sister has been one of the greatest gifts of my life; I wish I could protect them this one last time.

My team will never forgive themselves and that will push them closer to danger as they will surely risk too much to try and catch him now. I can't even think about what this will do to Jane. He will blame himself, and it's inevitable he will pursue Red John now to the point of madness.

I am powerless to protect them or help them. I can't negotiate with this man, and I should really be concentrating on trying to hide how utterly terrifying that is. Whatever happens here today will happen because Red John wants it to. He has outwitted us this one last time, and the delight on his face is all I can see as he prepares to confess his repellent strategy to me.

"So Teresa, I thought we could talk to Patrick Jane before we get to our endgame. I think he would like to hear from you one last time. I know I would like to share a little of what is to happen today with him. I mean, I know he will probably find you _after, _but it might be fun to involve him while you are still alive."

There is no way to process what he is saying to me, I'm just forcing myself to keep looking in his eyes and not pass out. I feel sick, and not only because of what Red John is telling me. I know he has stabbed me, or someone has stabbed me, and I can see bruises in the shape of hand prints on my arms. It hurts still to keep my eyes open, and I can only focus about a metre in front of me – but I can sense the presence of a couple of people just beside me. Red Johns friends are hovering, probably to make sure I stay where I am and also to just keep freaking me out a little more.

They should be commended; they are very talented at freaking me out.

It really does hurt to be abducted by a serial killer, I can't emphasise that enough. I can hear myself breathe in and out – I almost certain that is not usually the case. Struggling for breath is not how I imagined this day would go.

"Teresa, are you listening to me? It's very important to me that you stay awake for a little while longer. I need for you to enjoy this as much as I am going to. Can you hear that Teresa, can you hear what we've been listening to all this time?"

I close my eyes again and try and centre my attention on listening. My brain is exhausted and over active all at the same time, thinking seems to require an act of will. I miss having my partner beside me. I miss Jane; he would be able to help me with this.

I can hear him; genuinely I can hear Patrick Jane talking. Is this what happens when you lose your mind?

"Listen with me Teresa, Patrick is at your apartment right now. Actually all of your little team is at your apartment. They're worried about you; I've been listening to them while you've been unconscious. I think dear Patrick blames himself somewhat for this predicament we find ourselves in. And he is correct, of course, so I thought it might be amusing to call your apartment and have a quick chat before we move on to the final part of the evening."

I can hear them now that I know what it is I should be listening out for. I can hear the soft voices of my team, I can't really hear the words but it's a comfort to know they remain safe. I shall do everything I can while I am still here to ensure their safety for as long as possible. I understand the odds of success are slim, but I owe them my loyalty till the very end.

"Goodness Patrick is taking your disappearance badly. I wonder what has upset him the most – perhaps the flowers I left for you when he has never had the nerve to give you a bouquet of flowers himself. Or perhaps it was the blood we left for him, I must admit that lovely incision I made on your flawless skin spilled rather more of your blood than I was expecting. It would have been instructive to watch the look on Patricks face when he found that little bit of evidence. Anyway, I should get to the point and put a call into them. I'll use speaker phone and that way you can be fully involved Teresa. I should remind you that myself and my friends will be quite prepared to use necessary force if you misspeak. Show me respect now that you are my guest and this will go fine."

I can hear him humming softly to himself as he places a call on his cell phone. He seems happy, and to be enjoying this completely; it's unspeakably frightening to be in the presence of a true psychopath.

"Hello."

Patrick. He has answered the call, probably already half resigned to the conversation he is about to have.

"Patrick Jane. It's been too long. You know who I am, and of course I should tell you I have a very lovely visitor with me just now."

Silence. There is no answer from Jane. I hope he is going to be okay. I know Grace will look out for him, actually they all will. This is too cruel, he shouldn't have to bear this – none of them should.

"Patrick if you won't engage with me in conversation then I will make Teresa regret it."

"I want to speak to Lisbon. I want to know how she is before we can have any sort of dialogue."

"You misunderstand this situation Patrick. You have no input into my actions, I've already decided on my actions for today. This is a courtesy call to yourself and those fine agents you work alongside. I'll tell you a little of what I plan for Teresa Lisbon and then I'll let you get back to making your futile little plans to catch me."

"I want to speak to Lisbon."

"I'll bet you do Patrick, but we'll get to that in a short while. I should tell you that I've been listening to Lisbon for several weeks now; it was easier to secrete a bug in her apartment that I at first thought. This should tell you that I heard your pathetic conversations last night. You know Patrick, I must confess to be disturbed that I mean so little to you that you seem willing to align yourself with Teresa over myself. I thought you understood the journey we were on. This is a necessary reminder for you to keep your focus."

This is beyond cruel and I am powerless to prevent any of it. I can pray for them all, and I will as soon as this horrific parody of a phone call is over.

"I want to speak to Lisbon."

He is very close to cracking, the terror and desperation all too obvious in his voice. He is trying so hard to remain professional but instead he sounds like a little boy. I want very much to be able to run my fingers through his hair and tell him everything will be okay. I think later today when it all becomes too much for me I will retreat to a place where I can find comfort in pretence of being held by Patrick Jane.

"I understand what you want Patrick, and actually for the first time I do mean that. I can understand why you are so taken with the lovely Agent Lisbon; she is quite an impressive woman. Utterly fierce, but conversely beautifully feminine. I can't tell you how charmingly delicate her neck is, I can wrap my whole around it. And earlier I must confess I was moved by her humanity as she fought her way to consciousness, fighting off the effects of the drug we used on her. She cried for her brothers. She cried for her mother Patrick, can you imagine? The indomitable Agent Lisbon screaming for her mother. And, of course, she asked for you too Patrick – I think we both know she'll probably be screaming for you as I kill her."

This really is too much to bear, and I'm so worried about what Red John is going to coerce Jane into agreeing to.

"I will find you, and I will kill you. Now let me speak to Lisbon now, though I know I will speak to her later today when we find her. And we will find her."

"I have no doubt you will find her Patrick, but it will be too late by then. She will be dead. You're always going to be too late. You're condemned to follow me in the shadows, and always coming off second best. It makes me think of our lovely friend Lorelai, frankly. I knew her so very well before you ever did; I'm wondering whether I should take that same step with the delightful Teresa."

I can hear Cho and Rigsby shouting in the background, yelling what they intend to do to Red John when they get him. Shamefully I hope they succeed.

"I will do anything you ask if you let her go. Anything. I mean that. I will do anything you ask. Let Agent Lisbon go and I'll go with you. Let her live and we can come to an arrangement."

Stupid man, he should know I would never want that – but I do love him for trying. I love all of them for trying.

"It's too late for that Patrick, my plans are final. I should tell you and those noisy agents with you what my plans are for Agent Lisbon – actually the lovely Teresa will be hearing this news for the first time too. I am intrigued by the idea of the redemptive suffering of Agent Lisbon, and the wonderful symbolism of this aligned with her faith. Agent Lisbon will die for your sins Patrick; she will be crucified as soon as that can be arranged."

That I didn't expect. This is someone else's life, it has to be. Probably someone in a Mexican soap opera; that is the only reasonable explanation. I can hear crying now, I'm not sure who is but the sobbing is heart wrenching.

"I want to speak to Teresa."

"Of course, where are my manners? Agent Lisbon, the floor is yours."

"Hey Lisbon, are you okay?"

I can't help myself so I let out a small laugh at the utter futility of those words.

"Hey yourself."

It hurts to speak, that can't be a good sign. But my sight is coming back, which is a comfort. At least I know where I am, and where I will end my days.

"Hold on, Lisbon. We're coming for you."

They're really not, but I think I will allow him this lie. I really want to hold his hand one more time. I think I could bear anything if I got to hold his hand once more.

"It's okay, I'm okay. I need for all of you to be smart and stay safe. I need all of you to say safe."

"Teresa."

He's crying now, and there will be nothing I can do to stop that. I think we both recognise this conversation to be the ending that it is.

"I wanted you to know that I do believe you, despite what I said earlier today. I do believe what you told me. But I don't want that. Choose what's smart. Don't sacrifice any more than we've already had to. Take care of each other. But I know it's too late for me now, you should've let me in when I asked partner. I shouldn't have had to ask more than once."

Maybe those words will be enough.

"Okay, that's enough. Patrick, agents, it's been a delight. But you'll have to excuse Agent Lisbon and I as we have plans for the rest of the evening."

This is the moment I should start to pray.


	10. Chapter 10

Falling Slowly Chapter 10

"Okay, that's enough. Patrick, agents, it's been a delight. But you'll have to excuse Agent Lisbon and me as we have plans for the rest of the evening."

I keep the phone held to my ear long after Red John has hung up - I think it may be because it gives me something to do. This is beyond wretched, and all I can think to achieve is clutching a telephone to my ear and try to remember to breathe.

I'm not convinced I am going to be able to do this. Even that's a lie I suppose, I have already failed to do this. He has Teresa. And wherever he is with her, he is hurting her.

I put down the telephone and wipe the useless tears from my face. I want to go upstairs and crawl into Teresa's bed, hide away from all of this by lying in the echo of her presence, losing myself in her scent that remains on her sheets.

"Jane?"

I want to get out of here, get in my car and drive to wherever Red John has her and just have this _end. _ I don't care anymore; nothing matters if she is dead except that he has to die too.

I know I should be doing something productive now, but my mind won't let me focus on what that should be. I know I need to get out of here and be useful.

"Jane, you need to focus man – what was Lisbon telling you on the call? It sounded like she was giving you a message, what was it?"

"Nothing… Just that I'm an idiot. There was no message, just that I'm too late again."

"Jane don't make me hit you, the boss was telling you something. You need to listen to her; we don't have time for this. Lisbon needs you."

Cho is crowding me, by his standards desperate to pull me back from wherever I'm trying to run too. I look up and see Van Pelt and Rigsby close by, desperation too on both of their faces. I'm a truly selfish man, I've forgotten that losing Lisbon will not just devastate my life – it will destroy all four of us in our own way.

"We have to find the boss, Jane. What was Lisbon telling you just now, it seemed important. Think about it Jane."

I don't believe Rigsby has ever yelled at me before, but his tears and his terror are what I need to remind me that she is not yet lost. Lisbon is not yet lost to us.

"I told Lisbon today that I would choose her over Red John, that I would choose her life ahead of my pursuit of him. She was being kind to me, I think, just now. She was saying goodbye to me because this morning she told me she didn't believe what I was saying. So she was being kind to me."

The thought of Lisbon being kind while suffering is more than I can bear.

"Jane. That's not all she said – Lisbon said something about you making her ask twice. What does that mean? We don't have time for this, help us Jane. Help us."

It's Van Pelts turn to try and force me into action. Around us is nothing but action, agents and investigators in Lisbon's home which is now a crime scene in a very sickening sense – I assume they will be looking for the listening devices Red John hid here. He heard us talking last night; that makes me want to cry for Lisbon. We shared our most intimate conversation and we were not alone.

He was listening to us, waiting to inflict his own horror because he can. I failed so utterly to protect my family when he decided to take them, and I have been similarly useless to Lisbon.

But I need to be of some use to her, it would be unforgivable to give in now. I will have the remainder of my life to give in and give up.

I go back to what Lisbon confessed a few moments ago.

_But I know it's too late for me now, you should've let me in when I asked partner. I shouldn't have had to ask more than once_.

I'm not sure of the significance of her words. Why would she choose those particular words to say goodbye with? My fear and desperation is making clarity of thought difficult. For the second time in my life Red John is taunting me with his ability to walk into my life and take what is valuable from me.

What did I make Lisbon ask for more than once? Where would I let her in? I need to think and not panic. I need to think and not panic. But he has Lisbon, he is hurting her _now_. He went into my home years before and took my family, and now he has infiltrated Lisbon's home and has taken her.

I don't know where I would _let _Lisbon in. She knows how I feel now, is it possible though that she is taking of her complicated discussion last night? But if this really was a message for me, what is she saying? I don't _have _anywhere to let her into.

Except…

I move closer to Van Pelt, take hold of her arm and lead her out of the apartment. This has the reaction from the rest of the team I was hoping for; they follow us so we can talk as privately as possible.

"I think he has her at the CBI building. I think Lisbon was talking about my attic. She called me partner on the phone, something she did before asking me to let her into the attic when I was hiding out. I think he has her there because it's somewhere that is mine; and for me to walk in there and find Lisbon hurt amongst all my plans for finding _him_ would be the ultimate victory for Red John."

As I say the words I know them to be true.

"Let's go."

Cho doesn't have to convince any of us, and as one we rush towards the closest vehicle.

Rigsby drives at a frightening pace; still I wish he would drive faster. My hand grips the handle of the door, ready to open it and run out of here as soon as we are close to the CBI building. Grace is sitting next to me, holding my hand. I think this is as much for her comfort as it is for mine, but the warmth of her fingers against my own remind me to keep breathing – and frankly make me ache to touch Lisbon's hand.

We don't have a plan. If Lisbon was here she would be telling us how this would go when we got to the CBI. I want her so much to be here, because I am unable to contemplate a life where she is not telling us how to be.

"Jane, you need to not panic and run in there after Red John. We go in first and you need to not get in the way of us freeing Lisbon."

"Cho, I don't care about Red John beyond that he is here and that Lisbon is too and that we get to her in time for her to be okay."

That is honestly true; I don't care about anything except that Lisbon has to be okay.

"We're nearly there Jane; you can't leap out of this vehicle and run in by yourself. Lisbon needs all of us to do this together. But she would also want me to say that we should be prepared. This could be bad. What we are about to see could be bad."

Cho meets my gaze in the rear view mirror; he is as close to the edge as I have ever known him to be. And then he seems to visibly collect himself, he will do what he has to for Lisbon and he will be professional even though I will not.

"I won't let her down Cho, and I won't get in the way of you all doing your jobs – but know that I have to be there no matter what we are about to walk into."

We pass the remainder of the journey in silence, trying I think to get some sense of calm before what is about to take place.

We are about to walk into a building and face down a serial killer who may or may not have already killed the most significant woman in our lives.

I suppose we could be under surveillance even now, perhaps Red John already knows we are making our way here – perhaps he is long gone.

I only hope that Lisbon remains.

I am never any good at this part of an operation; it's stupidly obvious I am not a competent agent when faced with having to go into a dangerous scenario like this. But as we exit the car and make our way through the CBI building I hold back and let Cho direct me where to go.

The building looks all but deserted as we make our way up the fire escape to the attic. I'm half hoping I am wrong and he won't be here – at least then we would have the hope that Lisbon is alive somewhere waiting for us to find her.

This is wasteful thinking, and I should be concentrating on staying in line behind Rigsby as Van Pelt and Cho close in on the attic floor.

From where we move along the corridor I can see that the door is slightly open, and I know it wasn't like that when I left it. Cho turns to me and silently acknowledges that what is about to take place will be the most significant act of CBI careers. Of our lives, probably.

I can hear talking, I can hear his voice. His voice is raised as if he were straining to have someone hear his words. I can hear other voices too; it's clear Red John as at least two of his followers with him for this assignment. As we come closer to the attic I get to catch a little of what he is shouting.

"Soon as she was gone from me a traveller came by…"

More William Blake.

I look to Cho as he silently indicates of how he wants us to go in – he leads, then Van Pelt followed by Rigsby and I keep out of the way. That way I get to go to Lisbon as soon as possible.

Cho kicks the door and enters my attic with a yell telling people to put down their weapons. I hear glass smashing and gun fire before I finally make it through the door.

Cho and Van Pelt are running out onto the roof, Rigsby enters and has gun pointed at two suspects who lie shot on the floor below where Lisbon is displayed.

My legs buckle as it becomes obvious that Red John was being literal when he threatened to crucify Lisbon.

I move to her not knowing where to touch her to make sure she is still with us. She has obviously been hurt so much. She is bleeding very badly from a large wound in her side, and her hands are fastened to the wall behind her with nails going through the upper part of her palm angled towards her wrists.

"Is the boss alive?"

Rigsby forces me into movement and I am close enough to hear her laboured breathing.

"She needs help now, Rigsby. We have to get her help."

"I've made a call, the paramedics are on their way – they'll be here in a few minutes. There is so much blood in this room, as you sure she's still with us? That bastards being writing with her blood all over your desk."

I push down my nausea in reaction to this fact, none of this matters just now. The two men bleeding on the floor don't matter; nothing in this room is of any consequence except Lisbon.

I move closer to her, wanting to help her down but terrified I will hurt her more.

"Rigsby I need your help to hold onto Lisbon until we can get her down from here."

She is still in the sleep wear she had on when I left her apartment so many hours and a lifetime ago. I can't imagine what she has been made to endure since I last saw her, but the evidence of her ordeal is written all over her small body.

I turn as Rigsby moves closer to us, his heartbreak obvious as he comes to stand beside me.

"I don't think we should move her Jane, I don't want to hurt her."

"I know, but to leave her like this seems like a betrayal. I don't know where to touch her to give her any relief."

We both climb onto a desk so that we have better access to Lisbon. She is breathing, and that is the most important fact in my life. Rigsby stands still, devastated but standing guard over his boss. It's a quiet testament to his gentleness. I softly place my hand on her right hip, the side which has not been attacked quite so badly.

Lisbon groans a little at the contact and her eyes open.

"Rigsby. Hey."

She tries to smile but can't quite seem to summon the strength to make her body co-operate with the intentions of her mind.

"Boss, we're going to get you out of here. Hang on for us."

"Is Jane okay?"

The tears I had been holding back are falling now, only Teresa Lisbon could be in this much trouble and yet worry about me.

"I'm here Lisbon. We're all here."

Well Cho and Van Pelt are somewhere running after a serial killer, but we can get to that soon.

Lisbon tries to turn her head to the direction of my voice but seems to tire immediately and closes her eyes again.

"My mom is here, we're going to Mass. It's been such a long time since I've gone with my mom."

I move right against her, desperately afraid of how badly she is hurt. She has lost so much blood, the evidence of that all over her apartment and this room. I take off my jacket and press down firmly with it on the vicious wound at her side. Her eyes are open again at the contact.

"Hurts…"

"Helps coming boss, I swear help is coming."

I know Rigsby would move her from here and simply run to the hospital with Lisbon in his arms if he thought it was the right thing to do for her. I know exactly how he feels.

I keep the unforgiving pressure on her wound but rest my lips on her temple, desperate to offer her at least some comfort while she fights to remain with us.

She is moaning now, soft little sounds of pain that will remain with me for all of my days.

"It's okay sweetheart. It's okay."

"Hey Jane, I didn't know you were here."

"Of course I'm here sweetheart; you know I'll follow you anywhere."

Her eyes are closed again, I'm not sure my sarcasm and plain wishing will keep her conscious now.

I kiss her the curve of her cheekbone completely unable to pretend that I don't _need _to touch her now. I know Rigsby should not witness this, but the extreme circumstances over rule any good sense I would normally have.

"Is Jane okay? Do you know where he is? Don't let him go after Red John on his own. Rigsby, you have to make him take care of himself."

"Jane is here with us boss. He's here."

But she has left consciousness behind; her beautiful green eyes suddenly closed to us. I half convince myself that if my eyes don't leave her face then I will be able to _will_ her back into opening her eyes.

Her blood is seeping through the fabric of my jacket and it feels like we are watching her die. I think that is because we are.

I hear a commotion in the corridor and nearly faint with relief when I realise it's because help has arrived. We are going to get Lisbon to hospital and she will have a chance.

She will live. I refuse to acknowledge that she may not.

She will.

She has to.

She wouldn't leave us.

She can't.

The room fills with paramedics and fire officers as they rush forward to do their jobs.

I let go of Lisbon but stand as close to her as I can, anxious not to be in the way but resolute that keeping my eyes on her will help her in some way.

"Jane, Cho just called."

I missed the call, the entire conversation, so intent have I been on maintaining a connection with Lisbon.

"Jane. They've got him. They've got Red John."

I hear the words but am not sure of their significance. I know they should be important but nothing is important while Lisbon is so gravely ill.

I want to hold her hand and tell her everything will be okay.

But I can't take hold of her poor, abused hands any more than I can promise her_ anything_ right now.

All I can do is prove that Teresa Lisbon has been an influence on me all these years. I take comfort in the rituals that she would, proof of my desperation and desire to be closer to her in any way possible.

I stand and watch as people I don't know work at saving the life of the most important person in my life. I stand here and pray to a God I don't believe in to allow Lisbon to live.

I'll keep praying until she opens her eyes again.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, am simply borrowing them for the purposes of this story. Actually Jill does belong to me, but she is not really what you're here for.

AN: Sincere thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review this story so far, it makes me day whenever I get a review and I really appreciate it. I apologise for the length of time between updates, will try and ensure the next one appears much sooner.

Falling Slowly- Chapter 11

I always forget how much I loathe flying until I am back in the air and a complete stranger is asleep with their head against my shoulder. I don't even allow my husband to do that unless he has fed me first; so I figure this idiot next to me has about four minutes before I completely lose my patience with him.

Why are people so obnoxious when travelling on a plane, the couple across the aisle have been complaining for the last four hours about the quality of wine they've been drinking. One more word from them, and I'm bringing out my badge and ruining their day.

I hate _everyone _on this flight. Hate them. They're all being normal, all of them. There's a guy in the row behind me flirting with – what I assume to be – a pretty woman who happens to be sitting next to him. He's insufferable, but she seems to be enjoying it. It's simultaneously making me sick and want to yell at them. I can't escape as I am stuck here in front of them, with the added bonus of this idiot asleep on my shoulder.

I hate this.

I hate everyone on this flight.

I need this plane to land in Sacramento now. We're very nearly there, but the relatively short flying time has been an endurance test I could have done without. I need to be at the hospital now, or at least able to access my calls and find out what's been happening since I've been in the air.

I didn't expect to be going back to Sacramento this soon, and I certainly didn't expect to be heading back into such a devastating situation. I've been praying to a God I don't believe in that my friend has enough strength to survive whatever she has had to endure tonight.

I was at the store trying to decide between cheese and barbeque Pringles when I got the most horrifying call from my husband I hope I ever will. It had been a good day up until then, I shopped for clothes and we all had take-out for dinner – and I had been sent out on another junk food run. While I was wasting time at the store apparently it was all over the news, female senior CBI agent abducted and subsequently tortured by the serial killer Red John. The serial killer had reportedly been taken into custody and the agent to the emergency room. _Sources close _to the case have been speaking to one too many journalists.

My much loved and very practical husband was booking my flight to Sacramento while we were still talking on the phone. So I got in my car, got to the airport in one piece and now I'm here. I've been thinking too much the whole flight; thinking about how Teresa Lisbon could possibly survive an encounter with this sickening man.

The only thing I do know for certain is that I had to be in the same city as her to be of whatever use I can be to her and her friends. Goodness I wonder if her brothers know about this yet, she wasn't mentioned by name on the news so part of me hopes they have been spared this knowledge for a few more hours. Maybe it will be kinder for them to be updated when her condition is known, though I'm not sure they would agree with me.

Anyway to get through the hours of this flight I've been hating on my fellow travellers, it's easier to do that than sit here and worry and weep for my beautiful friend.

As we make our decent into the airport I must attempt to hold myself together. I should be Agent Barker, and be calm and level-headed and comfort those who also love Teresa. Unfortunately I know I'm going to be Jill, grief stricken friend. I'm not here to muscle in on the investigation; I don't care what happens to that bastard Red John. Actually, of course I _care_ but I care about Teresa more – and I won't waste precious effort in worrying about him. She is the reason I am here, and all of my energy is going into being _here _for her.

I sleepwalk my way through Arrivals and with more patience than I realised I had in me I wait in line for a cab to take me to the hospital. A voice mail from my precious husband gave me details of where Teresa had been taken too. He had no more to tell me than that information, except of course his comforting words of love. I had three calls from colleagues asking if I had any news about Teresa and to call anything, and a call from my credit card company wanting to talk about upping my credit limit. Just shows if, as Teresa believes, He is looking down on us somewhere, he has a wacky sense of humour.

I can endure this cab ride because I know it's bringing me closer to my friend, and at least when I get to the hospital I can be of some sort of use -even if it's simply to buy coffee and horrible sandwiches for Teresa's team. I'll tip the cab driver more than I really should, because he seems like a sweet guy but I can't raise the interest to even attempt to have a conversation with him.

My hands are shaking I'm so afraid of what I'm going to find inside this hospital. There are reporters everywhere; I'm not sure what I can read into that. I hope it means they are waiting on an update on the status of the injured _senior agent_. I hope it means the worst possible outcome has not happened and she is fighting to stay with us.

If she hasn't survived tonight then I'm not sure I am going to be strong enough to be of use to the people who are going to need supporting.

I wonder about Patrick Jane, wonder if he is here keeping watch. I hope he is in this building because I think Teresa would need him to be, but if Red John is in custody somewhere then I suppose it's reasonable to assume he will be there to end whatever battle they have been engaged in all these years.

I produce my ID to gain access to the hospital, and nearly pass out with relief when I am told that Agent Lisbon remains in surgery. I know that means she has been badly injured, and that makes my heart hurt – but it also means she remains with us. I move quietly through the hospital corridor to the small room where I have been told her family are waiting for her.

As I approach the door I look through the glass, wondering which of her brothers has managed to make it to Sacramento so quickly. And selfishly wondering how I am possibly going to manage talking with them, while facing the task of being positive and encouraging.

I run my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself look as close to professional as I can. Which is stupid really, I'm in an old shirt and jeans so professional is the exact opposite of how I appear. I don't want to go in here, I want to run back to the airport and pretend everything is okay. I want to hug my husband and kids and pretend that I don't know about the existence of cruelty in this world.

But I need to stop this self-indulgence; I came here to help not feel sorry for myself. I push open the door and step through to face whatever comes.

I almost collapse to the floor in shock at what I find. The _family _waiting for Teresa is one man; Patrick Jane. He hasn't acknowledged my entrance to the room, I'm not even certain he is aware of me. He is sitting on a plastic chair, his hands clasped together almost like he is praying as he stares into space. He looks awful.

I want to go over and hug him but I'm not sure if that would be sensible. I need to make my presence known first, rouse him from his vigil. His clothes are covered in blood; Teresa's blood I would assume. This is too horrible to even contemplate. He looks like a different man from the one I had a dinner with so recently. He has aged, every line on his lovely face is now pronounced in agony and worry.

"Patrick, would it be okay if I came and sat with you for a little while?"

He looks up at me, and I see for the first time how truly altered he is by what has happened. As he looks in my eyes I can see his devastation and grief reflected in his, and I also witness his struggle to conceal all this from me. He tries to stand to greet me, but he collapses back into the chair almost immediately.

I move forward and sit beside him, not really knowing what to do or say for the best. I don't think I have the vocabulary to offer comfort to this man, I don't believe anyone else would either.

"Patrick, I'm so very sorry. Can I sit here with you for a while? I'd like to be here if that's okay but if you need quiet then I can find somewhere else."

"Of course you can be here, I'm sure Teresa would welcome your support."

His voice broke hopelessly when he said Teresa's name. This is heart breaking, and I am going to have to do something to reassure and comfort him if he will let me.

"Have they told you anything? They told me she was in surgery and that I could wait here. Do you know any more than that?"

He looks at me again but doesn't speak, just shakes his head to confirm he has no more information about her current status.

"I can leave you Patrick if you'd prefer, or I can listen if you want to talk."

"I'm not sure I would be entertaining company right now."

"Teresa would want me to make sure you were okay. Maybe you should get out of those clothes for starters."

"I know I should, but I can't leave here."

"I'll stay, and you only need to go for a little while – I'm sure you could persuade someone to loan you some scrubs."

He smiles sadly at me, and the weight of his sorrow is overwhelming to witness.

"I can't leave Jill, I'm staying right here till someone comes and tells me what is going on with Lisbon. I have been sitting here for hours, making all kinds of deals with myself. But the most immediate one is I will not leave this room until I know what is happening with Teresa."

"Okay, whatever you want is okay. Can I get you something to drink maybe, coffee or tea?"

He tries to smile again, but shakes his head in refusal. I have not felt this helpless in a long time, probably since I was an idiot rookie at work trying to cope with the managing the grief of victims' families.

"Can I ask you about what happened tonight, Patrick? If you can't talk about it that's okay – but I want to know about what happened to my friend. I'm not trying to intrude on your grief, or hurt you but I would like to know what to expect."

"I know you're not trying to intrude."

He speaks so softly I can barely hear him even though I am sitting right next to him. It's although saying the words hurt, and I suppose they probably do.

"Red John, along with several accomplices, took Teresa from her apartment with the intention of torturing and killing her."  
Without thinking about it I reach forward and hold his hand, probably more for my own comfort than Patrick's if I'm being honest. It's perhaps an indication of just how distressed he is that he allows this connection to remain.

"He took her to the attic space where I work at the CBI building, he took her there to kill her and then leave her for me to find. He called to boast about him taking Lisbon, and she managed to make a slightly obscure reference that meant I was able to work out where he had her."

"Smart woman our Teresa."

He stays silent, but the he squeezes my fingers slightly in response and I hope agreement.

"He was going to crucify her. He tried his very best to."

I'm trying so very hard to be calm but to think of her suffering like this… My poor, lovely friend.

"You found her in time that has to count Patrick. You found her, and you know she knew you would."

"He was going to _crucify _her, that's all I know. He very nearly succeeded; he tried his very best to because it _amused_ him. He liked the idea of torturing a woman of faith, of sacrificing Teresa in this way so he changed his usual routine when ending lives. Horrifyingly that's probably the only reason she is still alive. Instead of breaking into her home and killing her immediately she was brought to my pathetic excuse for a home to be left on display."

I'm letting him talk; it feels like he has been holding onto these words for hours. It feels like saying them out loud is offering some sort of relief. Or maybe I really am still that gullible rookie, and he is saying them out loud as another form of punishment for himself.

"Scripture tells the story that Christ was flogged before he was put on the cross, well Red John had his accomplices beat Teresa instead. She must have been savagely punched and kicked while she had little chance to respond as she had already been drugged out of alertness. Then she was stabbed in the side; I assume this was the work of Red John in homage to the crucifixion. Add this to the stab wounds that were inflicted on Lisbon at her apartment, she has lost a terrifying amount of blood. Earlier tonight when Agent Cho burst into the room where Lisbon was being held, Red John was in the process of leaving a message for me. He was using her spilled blood to write the words of William Blake poem."

Upon saying these words he seems to break down; or at least let go of a little of his self- possession and control. I watch helpless as he tries so very hard to keep the tears from falling. I believe I am making an already hopeless situation so very much worse with my presence here. I should leave him be, but that would mean I am leaving Teresa and I can't bring myself to do that either.

"Patrick, can I ask you something? And it should go without saying you can ignore any request I make, or indeed ask me to leave if that would be easier for you."

He releases a slow breath and rubs his hands against the knees of his hopelessly ruined suit trousers. I genuinely don't know how he is about to react.

"You want to know why I am here and not finishing what I have to with Red John."

"I'm sorry; I know that's unspeakably impertinent of me to ask."

"I understand."

He's turned to face me now, maintaining eye contact with confidence for the first time since I've come into the room. He has such very kind eyes, a ridiculous thing for me to notice right now but it doesn't make it any less true.

"Red John wrote poetry for _me _using Lisbon's blood. He believes we are having a dialogue; that we've _been engaged in a twisted conversation _for years – and I have perpetuated this belief."

"Patrick, I'm fairly certain you've been trying to capture a serial killer for years."

"Well that is true, but I have made it about Red John and I and our perverse battle against each other. I have needed revenge for my wife and my daughters' deaths, but I can't continue the battle with him if the consequences are such pain and suffering for those close to me now."

"But he is in custody now he can't hurt anyone any more. Unless you think it remains a possibility he could escape?"

"Anything is possible Jill, but Agent Cho is with him. I quite believe he will stay awake and conscious for a week if necessary to ensure Red John's continued incarceration."

The little I know of Agent Cho allows me to acknowledge the truth of that statement, and I am immeasurably comforted by the knowledge that he is somewhere in the city standing guard.

"I refuse to engage with him. I refuse. For the second time in my life I walked into a room where his sickening violence had taken place because of my actions… Well I withdraw from that, I give in. Lisbon and her life are more important than continuing my engagement with Red John. My memories of my wife and daughter _while they were alive _are more important than continuing my engagement with Red John. I'm not playing our game anymore; I refuse to be part of the game. I realise, shamefully, that's it's perhaps too late for me to have come to this insight but I have. He will be waiting for me to come and continue what has been going on all these years, but I choose to remain here where I should have been all along. I have no desire to share space with Red John, to maintain his belief that he is important to me. He is not, he is nothing. His actions are everything, _but he is nothing_. Much as I might wish it, I can't go back and undo what has been done – I accept I'll never hold my daughter again or spend an evening dancing with my wife. I know their suffering because of me is something I will never be able to completely lay down, but I have someone else to care for now. I want very much to be able to devote my thoughts, actions and attention to Teresa Lisbon. My thoughts, actions and attention therefore will never be on Red John again. I hope he is punished, I hope he is destroyed, and I hope he realises that he is ultimately powerless and alone and feeble."

He exhales when he finishes these words. I think he has found them as exhausting as I found them exhilarating. I smile at him, just the hint of happiness on my face; hoping that will communicate how right I consider his words to be.

"I'm glad you've chosen Teresa, Patrick. I think it might be the smartest decision you could ever have made. Now you just need to hear _her_ say that."

"He has marked her so horribly, Jill. She is marked by him."

"I've always thought she was significantly marked by your presence in her life, and I think you might just need to be patient and wait and hear that from Teresa. We need to sit here and wait for them to come by and tell us that Teresa is recovering from surgery and that we can go and sit by her soon. I refuse to believe any other outcome is a possibility. She is the toughest woman I have ever met, and as heart breaking and sickening as what has happened to her tonight – I genuinely believe she will be strong enough to fight back against it."

"I hope so."

His voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear what he is saying despite him sitting directly in front of me.

"We're all marked in our own way Patrick; I can't pretend to know how you have been affected by the cruelty you have witnessed in your life but I do know how cruelty has affected Teresa Lisbon. She is a more than a little too self- possessed and hesitant to share herself with others, but despite all of that she has the gentlest of hearts and ridiculous capacity for kindness and love. Focus on that, don't think of anything other than that."

"I'll do that when I've spoken to her. Right now I am all too aware of the blood she has lost; and that I'm wearing a lot of it. Teresa thought was she was with her mother tonight, while she was still relatively lucid she spoke of going to church with her mother. I don't want to lose her and I am terrified I have accepted that as truth too late to make it count."

"You're here, that counts. You've chosen her, that counts for a whole lot too."

"I told her I would always choose her, I don't think I realised quite how freeing that choice would be. I wish I could be doing something to help her other than repeating '_please live, please live' _over and over. Before you got here I said that to myself for two straight hours, I never thought I would be someone who prayed."

"Me either, but it can't hurt to try. And think how pleased Teresa will be when she wakes up and makes fun of us for doing it."

"Do you really think she will wake up?"

"I have faith in her and in her endless capacity for endurance."

"He hurt her so badly I'm afraid that she will be lost to us."

I can hear the tremor of exhaustion and defeat in his voice, and I realise that I need to watch him for Teresa until she is able to do that again. I refuse to believe that she won't be around to do that, I am convinced that even by sheer force of will she will come back to us. Maybe, despite my protests, I too am a woman of faith.

"Teresa isn't lost, and neither are we. We're just waiting Patrick; we're just waiting for her to make her journey back to us."

The tiniest hint of relief in his expression suggests he acknowledges the truth of my words.

I hope you can hear us Teresa because we're waiting for you to come back to us.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: These characters clearly don't belong to me, I am simply borrowing them for the purposes of this story. Jill belongs to me, but that's because she isn't wanted elsewhere.

AN: Sorry for the delay in updating, hopefully next chapter will be up soon as we come towards then end of this story. I truly appreciate every review and follow or favourite my story receives, always makes me day when anything like that happens. So thanks very much to everyone who has taken the time to do that.

Falling Slowly Chapter 12

My bed feels less comfortable than it usually does, and it smells sort of funny too. I feel relaxed though, just not quite ready to waken up. I'm going to bury myself further against this pillow and sleep till the suns up. I want to enjoy this day off.

Is today a day off? I think something else was going on. I can't seem to open my eyes; I hope I didn't drink too much last night. This is wrong, though, my bed really doesn't smell so good and this feels different to a hangover. I think it might actually hurt to open my eyes, and I feel less than rested if I'm being honest. I wouldn't say I'm in pain, but I can feel _something _is wrong.

I open my eyes and suddenly it's obvious what that something is. I see the IV going into my right arm and dressings around my hand and wrist. I should be grateful that I forgot for a few moments, that I escaped from this horrible situation for even a brief while. It seems I am in hospital, but that is good. That is good. It means I am still alive. It means Red John was not able to beat me. I thought I would be more pleased by that.

"Lisbon."

I turn my head as much as I can at the sound of my name, not recognising who is calling for me.

It's Jane. He looks as awful as I have ever seen him, his voice scratchy and unrecognisable.

"You're awake, Lisbon."

He seems to be telling himself that out loud to confirm the truth of his words. I want to get up and hold him to me, to make him okay but I hardly have the energy to even talk.

"Hey, Jane, I guess I am awake."

He moves slightly further away from me as I speak. He's perched on a chair which has been pulled close to my hospital bed, and it looks like he might have been here for some time. He doesn't look like his normal put together self. He's staring at me with such sadness in his eyes. It looks like he is fighting with himself as to whether he speaks or not.

Or maybe he is just fighting with himself over whether he stays.

"It's so good to see you open your eyes Lisbon. I can't tell you how wonderful it is to see your eyes."

His voice sounds so strange, like he has damaged his vocal cords in some way. I hope Red John hasn't hurt him anymore while I was unconscious.

"Do you want some water Jane?"

He smiles at me then, all the lines etched on his lovely face seem to have gotten more pronounced. I think he has lost weight. Exactly how long have I been out? He moves his chair closer to my bed again, his knees brushing the edge of the bed. I think he wants to reach out and touch me, but something seems to be stopping him. I follow his gaze and see the dressings and bandages on my left hand – and I seem to have a lot of bruises down my arm too.

"Lisbon, you are an impossible woman."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been unconscious for three days and you finally open those lovely eyes of yours and start to fuss over me. I'm fine, I don't need water. I'm just so very happy to be able to talk to you."

"You're not fine, have seen yourself? You need someone to fuss over you. You look terrible. You're too thin, you look like you haven't slept for days, you need to shave, and I don't even want to think about what you're wearing."

Saying those many words is exhausting when you've been unconscious for a while, I would not have known that if I wasn't here. Focusing on Jane keeps me from thinking about Red John and what he did, and that suits me just fine.

I seem to have said the right thing to Jane, though as he is smiling. Finally, finally, he reaches for me and runs the pad of his thumb against the bruised skin of my left arm. It hurts a little, but his infinite gentleness makes even that worthwhile. I still want to get out of this bed and hug him; maybe I'll suggest he helps me do that in a minute.

We don't say anything for a while. Jane rubs his fingers along my arm and I watch him. Then he lays his head on the bed beside me and he kisses my arm, his lips trailing along the line of bruises there. He is so sweet and tender I can hardly bear it, I don't want to cry but I can't seem to stop the tears. Maybe surviving the horrifying attention of a serial killer makes it okay to cry. Maybe I've earned these tears.

I want to run my fingers through Jane's hair, it's more unruly than I have ever seen it and I think it would comfort him as much as it would me. But one arm has Jane attached to it and the other an IV – hopefully I can stroke his curls later, I think that might be something else I deserve.

As tempting as it is to lie here and receive this soothing affection from Jane I think we need to have a conversation or two. It looks like I am going to have to be the one to start the dialogue as Jane seems utterly content to lie with his nose against my skin and breathe in and out.

"Why are you here Jane?"

He kisses my elbow and then moves back to sit again in his chair. He leaves his hand beside my arm, not quite touching me but almost without any space between us.

"What do you mean, Lisbon? Where else would I be?"

"Is Red John in custody and all the guys okay?"  
"Red John is in custody and being questioned and everyone is fine. Your team is extremely worried about you, but they are doing their jobs admirably. Your consultant is extremely worried about you and is sitting here until that changes."

"No, you need to finish this Jane. Truly, I'm fine. Go do whatever you need to and we can talk later. I should call Cho and get up to speed with what's going on."

"Lisbon, woman, you are not fine. You are nowhere near the neighbourhood of _fine._ You've been tortured and hurt in the worst way. You've had a surgery and a blood transfusion, and have been unconscious for more hours than I thought I could bear. You are not _fine _so please let's not pretend that you are. I'm going nowhere, so just accept that."

"You'll regret it Jane. If you don't go and help with interviewing Red John it will fester within you that you didn't get to finish what you've been working towards all these years."

"It's finished Lisbon. It's over."

"How can you say that? This is what you've wanted for a decade, you finally get to question him and bring him to justice. I know it's not the justice you think he deserves but you know you could help to get him to confess even it was just to try and hurt you. You should go do what you need to do."

"I _need _to be here."

As he says this he moves his fingers the few millimetres needed to touch my skin again, I have to confess his touch soothes me.

"You need to finish this Jane, please listen to me."

"I am listening to you my dear, but you have to listen to me this time. I _have finished_ with Red John or Brent Stiles as I suppose we should really be calling him now. Agent Cho and the rest of your team are working; in fact I think most of the law enforcement officers in the state seem to working downtown. I am confident he will go to jail. I am content that he will face your legal systems version of justice. I'm not leaving you again Lisbon, so please don't try and make me."

"I don't want you to regret being here, I know how hard you have fought for Charlotte and Angela and I don't want you to feel that you stopped that because of me."

I have never spoken like this to him before; I hope he knows it's only because I want what is right for him.

"I promised myself I would always do everything I could for them."

"I know that Jane, you have, you always have."

"No, it was always too late. I kept my promise to them, but it was always too late to be of any worth to my family. Now I need to do everything I can for _you. _It's not too late to take care of you, and for _long hours _I thought it was. I am not leaving here Lisbon, and you're just going to have to accept that. _"_

"Then go do your job."

He lets go of me again, and I see a flash of anger across his tired face.

"This was never a job when it came to finding my families murderer. It's over, it's important that I don't get involved with this case anymore. He hurt you Lisbon because of me. He hurt you because he takes pleasure in my misery and my pain – well in anyone's misery and pain. But I invested so much of me in finding him that he imagines a connection between us that it's time to severe. He is not important to me, you are. I trust your people to do their jobs. You have to trust me to do right by you now."

I really don't think this is an argument I am going to win. I can't quite believe he is letting go this easily.

"Stop thinking so hard woman, you're in hospital and supposed to be recovering. I am _not _giving up easily despite what you might think, it's just time. I thought I had lived through the worst horror I ever would face in my life, but seeing you so hurt was enough. It's _enough _Lisbon. I've removed myself from any sort of dialogue with Red John, and that is a healthy thing. It's time to live without him in our lives."

We watch each other for a few moments, just taking the time and the silence to digest what his words really mean. I can hardly believe this might be time to live without the spectre of Red John in our lives.

I watch as Jane touches my fingers for the first time, he is careful and tender as I think he always wants to be. He leans close to me again and instead of tracing the bruises on my skin with his touch he presses a soft kiss to the bandage on my palm. We're going to have to talk about what happened to me some time, but it feels too soon right now.

"I'm glad to be alive Teresa."

He looks at me then, and I can see the truth of his statement shining in his eyes.

"And I am unspeakably happy that you are alive and I get a chance to prove to you how happy I am going to make you."

At these wonderful words I say the only thing I can think of.

"Jane, what on earth are you wearing?"

He smiles that devastating smile of his and moves to sit on the side of my bed. He is noticeably careful as he positions his body next to mine, wary of hurting me I suppose. I can't imagine the amount of stitches I must have in my side. My personal vanity regrets that I will have yet another scar, though at least the one in my side won't be as visible as the ones on my hands. I suppose I'll always be marked as the woman Red John didn't kill.

"Lisbon, what am I wearing – this is really what you want to talk about?"

He is so much closer to me now, and his voice is starting to sound less strained. Before I get the chance to respond to his question Jane leans forward and presses his lips against mine. Just the briefest whisper of a touch of his lips against mine before he pulls away but stays close as he breathes softly against my skin. He is a little too charming for his own good, but then I've always known that.

"You have a Gap sweatshirt on Jane, it looks odd."

"Gap is a brand; I just thought it was words on a shirt. My suit got a little messed up sweetheart, and I wasn't about to leave here to go change. Anyway, your friend Jill is here – and she bought me clothes. She refused to buy me a suit like I asked, so I think she sort of punished me with jeans and a sweatshirt instead."

"You look tired Jane; you've not been taking care of yourself."

He leans forward again and presses his lips to mine for another sweet kiss, this time pressing kisses to my cheeks and then my brow before he pulls away.

"It turns out I'm no good without you Lisbon, but I think that's been obvious for years."

"You need to go home and sleep Jane. And you should shave too. And while you're at it have a meal, I don't know how you could have gotten so thin so quickly."

"Anything else boss?"

His words are teasing, but his eyes are alive with laughter.

"No, I just need you to take better care of yourself. Do you understand me, Jane; I need you to take care of yourself for me."

"Of course, that's my plan. Of course, I may be too busy spoiling you for the next several years that you'll have to look out for me."

"Okay, I could do that."

He leans forward once more, this time resting his lips against my forehead as he holds himself as close to my body as he can without upsetting my wounds. I want to go home as soon as the doctors will let me; this would be much more enjoyable if I could do this at home.

But actually my home has been violated in the worst way and I don't know if I could ever feel safe there anymore, or even if I could be brave enough to go back.

"Jane, I don't think I can go back to my apartment again."

He stays right next to me with his lips against my skin as he continues our conversation.  
"Okay Lisbon, whatever you want. Jill has gone there to get you some clothes and things; I think she should back soon. But whatever you want is okay."

"No, don't listen to me; I'm being ridiculous – where else am I going to go? I'll go back home and maybe just clean for a few weeks, buy some new locks for my door."

"Lisbon you will be recuperating for the foreseeable future, there will be no cleaning of anything. You can go wherever you want – I can book us into a hotel, a _nice _hotel. I'm sure you could rest and recover there in peace and quiet. Or I could rent an apartment if that makes you feel better, but really whatever you want Lisbon is okay."

He just said he would book _us _a hotel room. I have woken up into a very strange world.

"Hey kids, you're not supposed to share hospital beds it gives all the other patients ideas."

When he hears Jill's teasing words Jane moves his lips away from my skin, and it's all I can do not to get out of bed and yell at her. This is only prevented by the fact I am too weak to do that and that Jane moves his hand to my shoulder instead, and lets his fingers stroke my collar bone as he turns to face our visitor.

"I am so happy to see you awake, Teresa, you had us terribly worried for a long time."

There are tears in her eyes as she confesses this to me, proof of just how close to not making it I must have come. I think I'll talk to Jill about that before I even dare to broach the subject with Jane.

"I can't believe you're here. You shouldn't be here."

"Of course I should Teresa, who else would look out for this idiot."

I hear Jane's soft laughter at these words; I think he anticipates what I'm going to say.

"You did a half assed job, Jill. Look at him, you should have forced him to eat a little maybe or – I don't know – attempt sleep."

"Hey, he's a handful, I did what I could."

"He is also sitting right here ladies, so feel free to talk about me at will."

"You should go get some sleep Jane."

"I'm fine Teresa."

"No you're not."

I'm whispering to him, trying to persuade him with the softness of my tone.

"Please, it would make me feel so much happier if you would go home and try and sleep."

He's staring at me now like I'm an idiot and looks like he's about to confess something but instead he leans forward and gives me another of those frustratingly brief kisses.

"I'm going to go shower and then I will find you somewhere to be when you get out of here. I'll be back in a few hours. But I am only agreeing to go if you allow Jill to sit with you."

"Absolutely, I volunteer for that job, I am world class at sitting."

"Thank you Jill. Promise not to get into any trouble while I'm gone Teresa, promise me to take care."

"Go sleep and shower, I'm in the hospital and am on what I can only assume is an obscene amount of drugs. I'll be fine, and I'll be waiting for you to come back."

This time I lean forward as far as I can and kiss him, the press of my lips firm and true against his.

"Okay, I'll be back soon. I'm going to leave via the nurses' desk so someone comes in to take care of you soon. Please humour me and let them take care of you, and tell them honestly about your pain levels. I forbid you to say _I'm fine."_

"You _forbid me."_

"Humour me on this one occasion, please."

He leans towards me and kisses my cheek softly and then brushes his nose against my hair as he whispers "I love you" into my ear. And then he stands, squeezes Jill shoulder affectionately as he passes her and leaves my room. That was quite the move; I suppose I should expect that from him.

"You okay, darling? Well clearly you're not _okay_, a sociopath just tried to murder you – but aside from that, are you good?"

Her words are teasing, but I can see how tired Jill looks and how affected she has been by what has happened.

"I've been better."

"I know, but you will _get _better darling. We were so scared we might have lost you. I thought Patrick was going to will you awake at one point such was his focus on you. Do you want to talk about what happened or is it too soon?"

"I do want to talk to you about it, but not today; I'm too exhausted and numb. Will you look out for Jane for me while you're here?"

"Of course I will, but I'm not sure I'll get much of a chance – I think he might be intent on looking after you. I think he might need that."  
"I told him I didn't want to go back to my apartment when I get out of here."

"He's probably out buying you a house right now, right?"

"Of course he isn't."

Though I wouldn't put that past him actually, it would be very _Jane _for him to do that.

"I like him Teresa. I mean he's messed up, and this nearly destroyed him right in front of me but I can't help but like a guy who is so utterly in love with my friend."

I'm too tired to deny it, and maybe I don't want to. He did just tell me he loved me. I'm going to let that simmer for a while, see if I can come to terms with it.

"And he's gorgeous. I mean he's gorgeous. I've stared at him for hours over the last few days, just watching him to make sure he didn't do anything stupid or reckless – and I like his face a lot. He has a lovely face; actually I think he looks a little like Justin Timberlake. Don't you think?"

I know why she's doing this, and I love her for it. She's trying to make me smile, trying to tease me and make me feel a little closer to normal than I should. And she'll sit with me and do this until the nurses or doctors chase her away from my bedside.

"In fact I think he looks like Justin Timberlake's gorgeous older brother. I've been thinking if he ever gets tired of working with you at the CBI then he should get together with Justin and work on a reality show with him. My thoughts are that they run a cocktail bar together – Justin does a little bit of singing, Patrick just talks and charms the audience while he tends bar. And there will be lots of shots of them looking magnificently attractive in their expensive suits. Maybe they could even fight crime together as a side project. Mostly though I would be happy with close ups of them while wearing nice suits. I'd definitely watch it; in fact every woman I know would watch it."

"You're a little bit insane Jill."

"Possibly, but admit you would watch it."

"I'm tired Jill, I want to rest now."

"Okay, darling; whatever you want. I'll sit here until Blondie gets back and will stay here while the doctors come and check you out."

This bed is not as comfortable as my own, the sheets are not as soft, and I will never be truly comfortable here but I am determined to rest and recover. I have to get out of here as soon as possible. I need to speak to Cho and the rest of the guys; I need to make sure there is nothing I could be doing for them. After that I am going to let Jane fuss over me, and I'm going to enjoy it. We'll need to have some truly awful conversations over the next few days, but hopefully they will be healing in a way. I have to believe that.

There are other things to believe as well, wonderful things. Jane whispered that he loved me tonight, and I'm going to choose to believe that. I'm going to choose to believe we have a chance.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, am simply borrowing them for the purposes of this story.

AN: Again much thanks to everyone who is reading, reviewing and following – it makes me happy and is very much appreciated. One more chapter to go now after this one, probably could end it here but the superstitious idiot in me won't post a thirteen chapter story!

Falling Slowly Chapter 13

I absolutely can't wait to leave this hospital, and can only imagine how that must be doubly true for Lisbon. That I get to drive her away from here in a few moments is the only thing that has kept me focused these last few days.

Though Teresa is far from back to her normal robust health, she is long past the period of being content to stay in a hospital bed and be on display to passing medical students twenty four seven. The only time I've laughed in forever was listening to her yelling at some first year residents who picked the wrong woman to be careless with. I know she longs to be able to close a door, lock it behind her and have the world disappear.

I am depending that she will want me to be on the right side of that locked door with her.

I'm fidgeting and worrying because I've been banished to the outside of the hospital to wait for Lisbon. Apparently I was being an _over protective ass_. Honestly though I don't see that changing anytime soon. So while I lurk by the exit, Lisbon is somewhere gathering up her few possessions and saying her goodbyes to those who have taken such good care of her these last weeks.

Hopefully I'll get to take good care of her over the next several weeks.

Or maybe years.

Or hopefully forever.

I'm getting ahead of myself, but I do intend to discuss that strategy with her soon. Or perhaps I could just stick by her, wear her down with my presence and she'll just let me hang around forever. I need sleep, clearly. To simply stick by her would be the cowards way out, and amongst the very many hundreds of promises I made silently to Lisbon while sitting by her beside – one of the main ones is that I'm not going to be a coward about my feelings anymore.

She has been within the walls of this hospital for twelve days, three of those unconscious and I can't emphasise strongly enough quite how those days have changed me. I'm anxious to get away from here to start putting those changes into actions.

I've rented an apartment for Lisbon to recuperate in; the very first _action _I hope will make Lisbon happy. And if not happy, then at least comfortable for a little while.

Her worried brothers were here for several days, but now they have returned to their own lives. It was heartening to watch Lisbon with them; at once protective and wonderfully tender. And then she became hilariously mad at them for coming all the way to Sacramento to see her when she was _"fine". _She really is an extraordinarily frustrating woman at times. Beautiful though, and I want to tell her of both those observations over and over till she tires of it.

It was good to see Lisbon with her family these last days, healing for me in ways that I can hardly give voice to. Which is a stupidly selfish thing to say; I should be worried about Lisbon's healing not mine – but somewhere along the way in the last few years I think both our fates and healing have become inexorably connected. I tried to communicate that to her brothers in a less _girly_ way, and they bought it enough to entrust me with her care so I hope Lisbon will too.

"Jane, you are pacing – I thought you were going to bring the car round."

I turn to her prepared to give her a smart ass remark, but all I can do is smile like an idiot. She is dressed in sweat pants and a large green sweatshirt; she looks tiny and so young and lovely. My overwhelming reaction though is to notice how beautiful she looks under the unforgiving lights of this hospital entrance way. Her skin is very pale, all of her freckles standing out and emphasising her loveliness; her eyes huge and luminesce, and the purest green I have ever seen.

"Don't worry Lisbon, I am illegally parked outside and ready to go."

She grumbles as I take her small bag from her, but I feel her smile as I settle my free hand against the small of her back as we walk the short distance to my car.

"I can't believe you're making an injured woman ride in this death trap."

"Hush woman and get in the car so I can get you out of here."

I dump her bag in the back seat as I help Lisbon into the front. She tries to hide her grimace of pain as she sits down, but I know her knife wounds will trouble her for many weeks to come. By the end of today I want to have convinced her that this is something she should be sharing with me, not hiding. I ignore her complaints as I fasten her seatbelt, kissing her cheek softly before I close the door and go round to my side of the car to join her.

"So where are you taking me, Jane? Please don't tell me you've bought a sofa bed for my office at the CBI."

I keep my eyes on the road and while I know she is half joking I think Teresa is still a little afraid that I am only half in this. Only time will prove to her otherwise. I reach over and take her left hand, careful of her still healing wounds. I bring her knuckles to my lips and kiss her, something else I intend to do so often she will tire of it.

"Of course not Teresa, we are going nowhere near work until you have recovered enough to tackle suspects again. We're going downtown to a quiet apartment complex where you can rest."

I return my hand to the wheel and realise all over again how nervous Teresa is because she places her own hand on top of mine.

"I feel like an idiot not going back to my apartment, I feel like I'm giving in. I should be strong enough to forget what happened and go back to my _own home."_

"Sweetheart, I'll never forget what happened and I would be delighted if you never set foot in that place again. You're the least idiotic person I have ever met, and you are absolutely permitted to get over what has happened in whatever way you choose. Do you _want _to go home, because if you do then I'll turn the car round and take you there? Whatever you want, all you have to do is tell me."

"I don't want to go back there."

She whispers these words to me, clearly ashamed of her reluctance to return to the scene of her abduction.

"Good, I don't either and I certainly don't want to be apart from you – so we can both go here together."

"Are you staying with me Jane?"

Her voice is small again; I don't ever want to listen to her talk to me with such anxiety in her words again. I've been planning this for days, but I'd forgotten that Teresa has not been privy to all of it. She has been concerned with surviving surgeries and stitches and pain, not my choices of whether an apartment with a balcony or two bathrooms would be better for her.

"Teresa, I'm staying until you kick me out."

I lift her fingers again and kiss her knuckles as we turn off the road to enter the gated apartment complex we will be staying at until Teresa decides where she want to go.

"Are you kidding? I can't live here Jane, look at this place. This is too expensive, what have you done?"

"I'm certainly not kidding. You most certainly can live here, and expense doesn't matter to me Teresa. This is what you need; it's private, and secure, and away from the press who have trying to speak to you for the last week or so. This is no less than you deserve, so please don't worry."

She is silent as I park the car and I am suddenly terrified that I have gone too far. I didn't think this would be so overwhelming I was only concerned about giving Teresa some place safe to sleep.

"Thank you."

Her words are so soft I could almost imagine I invented them, but her hand in mine as she presses her lips tenderly against my own makes it wonderfully real.

"You are so very welcome my dear."

I lead her into the building, my arm around her shoulder as I support her and simply try and stay close to her. We get the elevator up to the top floor and I escort Lisbon to what will be our home base for the next several weeks. Actually it can be home for however long Lisbon wants it to be. I had actually considered buying this place, but thought that might turn her into angry Lisbon. Now, I'm a fan of _every_ variation of Lisbon but I don't plan on seeing her angry till after she is healthy again.

I walk us to the apartment, let us in and dump Lisbon's bag as I hover and let her come to terms with her new surroundings. It's bigger than her place, quite expensively furnished but it's not too out of place with what I would imagine Lisbon would be comfortable with. I know she'll enjoy drinking her morning coffee on the balcony and I must confess I imagine myself in that picture, drinking my tea beside her.

"You didn't buy this place did you?"

"No. Do you want me to?"

"_No. _You really would do that wouldn't you? Trust me to fall in love with a man who doesn't know how to exercise restraint."

She has that little line above her eyebrow that makes her look so charmingly grumpy; and she looks tired if I'm honest but all of that fades into nothingness when she says those words.

"I love you too Teresa."

I do what I have been waiting to since we left the hospital; I place my arms around her and hug her body gently against mine. I am worried about causing her discomfort but her soft sighs against my chest suggest tiredness rather than pain.

We smile at each other for a few moments, silently recognising that this just might be the beginning we have been waiting so long for.

"Thank you for doing this for me. Thank you for taking care of me, and for staying by me in the hospital."

I take her hand in mine and bring her knuckles to my lips to kiss them again; I think I might have decided that this is our _thing. _Her hands are lovely to kiss, and I am going to do it as often as pleases her.

"I know you've been wanting to get away from your hospital bed, but you do look exhausted my dear – can I persuade you to be sensible and to try and get some rest."

"It terrifies me Jane that _you _are trying to persuade me to be sensible."

"Maybe you'll have to get used to."

I grin at her, enjoying that we get to tease each other like this. Enjoying very much that I can look at her with unguarded affection as often as I want.

"Where's the bedroom, Jane, I'll be sensible."

"Well there's two, both upstairs; I think I've picked the nicest one for you. Grace and Jill agreed with me, the view is lovely."

"Grace and Jill were here?"

"Yes, they went to your apartment to bring over some of your things. They brought clothes, and your sheets and towels. I'm not sure what else, just your _things _to make you feel more comfortable."

I am rewarded with a little smile of pure happiness and the press of her lips against my own. I put my hand on her right hip and hold her to me a beat longer so I can prolong our affection. I'd forgotten what happiness tasted like, it unspeakably good to remember.

I lead her slowly up the stairs and into what will be her bedroom for however long she wants it to be.

"Oh, Jane thank you. This is lovely, and too expensive. I don't need you to waste your money on all this. Please don't think you have to. "

"Teresa, I know I don't _have _to. You know I never do anything I don't _want _to do. I told you, I want you to feel safe, and I thought you would here, so this is where we're staying. Now it's time for you to get into bed."

"Really?"

"Yes, humour me, you know you're tired. Jill made the bed up in your sheets and quilt, so you'll be comfortable and cosy."

"Aren't you staying?"

Her eyes are large in her tired face, and I think she genuinely believes I am about to leave her. I really do have some explaining to do if she thinks that even possible for me.

"Of course I'm staying; I have a bedroom down the hall ready for me. Nothing would make me happier than being here with you, but I didn't want to presume too much."

"I want you to stay in here with me."

"Excellent my dear, I would have been pining for you down the corridor if I couldn't be here."

She smacks me a little on the chest, and for a few moments it's always like old times. But this time she pulls the punch in deference to her injured hand.

"I can't believe I'm ready to sleep after spending so long in a hospital bed."

"You didn't do a lot of _resting _there, so this is where you get to rest Teresa."

I lean forward and kiss her cheek again, just because I can, both of us smiling like idiots.

"I'll meet you back here, Jane, though if the bathroom is as beautiful as this room I might just sleep in the tub."

So this is an odd experience, I am getting ready to go to bed with a woman. I _almost _said _another woman_, but I can no more label Lisbon that than I could my Angela. They are both just the women of my life, I wouldn't have come to love one if the other hadn't been so horribly taken from life – but I can't change any of this but am determined to live it. I would happily have lived the rest of my life with Angela, but that option was taken from me. Now I will happily live the rest of my life with Lisbon if she will let me.

I quickly go down the hall to the other bedroom where I have left my clothes. I hang my suit in the wardrobe and put on some pyjamas, the first pair I've owned in years. I bought three pairs actually, and this little purchase gave me more pleasure than it really should. I think because it meant I had somewhere to come and sleep at the end of the day, maybe even the beginnings of somewhere to call home.

I go back to _our_ bedroom, and am confronted with a red faced Lisbon sitting at the end of the bed with what suspiciously like tears in her eyes.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm being stupid. I'm sorry to ask, but I need your help."

I sit beside her, our thighs close together as I lean down and kiss her shoulder through the soft fabric of her sweatshirt.

"You never have to be sorry to ask me for help, you just have to tell me what it is."

I watch as her lovely cheeks turn darker pink, usually an indication of her embarrassment but I have no idea what that could mean now.

"The nurses helped me a little in the hospital to get ready, but I thought I would be okay to get ready for bed."

"Okay, so you're just going to sleep in your sweats, that's okay isn't it Lisbon?"

"Yeah, that's not the issue. I feel about thirteen asking you this, but I need your help to get my bra off."

Oh.

Okay.

"Are you trying to seduce my Lisbon?"

"Don't be an ass; remember I can still smack you around when I'm back to normal. I didn't want it to be like this, you know?"

I kiss her shoulder again, ridiculously thankful that I get to witness Lisbon at her most beguiling.

"I think we should be thankful we're both here. We have plenty time for this to be how we _imagined _it would be, right now we're sleeping and cuddling – which I am very happy about."

"I don't remember agreeing to cuddling, you're a girl Jane."

"Undoubtedly, now woman let's get you ready for bed."

I move from where I've been sitting to kneel on the floor in front of Lisbon, her eyes never leaving my own.

"Okay, can you lift your arms so we can get your shirt off?"

She nods her agreement and with as much gentleness as I possess I help Lisbon out of her shirt. I stifle a groan as I see her damaged body. Most of her torso is wrapped in bandages, covering the worst of her injuries. The rest of her body has the remains of bruises, yellowing now as they start to fade. I lean forward and kiss her softly over her heart, unspeakably thankful that it still beats. I reach around her slim body to unclasp her bra and ease it down her bruised arms before nonchalantly throwing it over my left shoulder.

"Nice, Romeo, now can I have my shirt back."

I really am remarkably lucky to love this woman, and luckier still that she appears to share my affection. I lean forward once more, determined to communicate my devotion and perhaps more subtly my desire. This time when I kiss her heart, it's her soft skin that I rest my lips on. I indulge this for a few short moments, and then smile against her skin as I tenderly help Lisbon back into her shirt.

"You think you're pretty cute, don't you Jane?"

"Well, I know you think I am."

"Get in bed before I change my mind."

"Yes ma'am. Do you have a preferred side?"

She laughs a little as she shakes her head at me as she climbs under the soft blankets and quilt. It takes me about two seconds to crawl in after her.

She is lying on her back, trying to find a comfortable position as I lie on my side and settle down to watch her.

"Can I do anything to make you more comfortable Teresa?"

"No it's okay, just feels a little like I'm a stranger in my own body. It's getting easier to bear but I hate having to pop so many pain killers just to get by."

"Would it be easier if I wasn't here, I can sleep on the floor if that'll give you more room."

She sighs in what I assume is frustration as she slowly moves to lie on her side, on her _good _side that doesn't have quite so many stitches. It's nice though to be like this, we can share a pillow and I get to look at her lovely face as we try and fall asleep.

"Stay here you idiot. You're not spending all this money on an apartment and then sleeping on the floor."

"Teresa, you're going to have to stop thinking about the money. I have money, it can sit in the bank or I can use a little of it to keep you safe here."

She moves slightly closer to me, our faces are almost touching now as she looks near to sleep. She's resisting though, which means she wants to talk before she gives in and rests.

"Patrick, this feels an awful lot like we're hiding. I should be at work, or at least available to them. You should be there too. I feel like I'm neglecting who I am."

"Sweetheart, you're not neglecting who you are; you are getting over what happened to you. I'll lock the door and hide the key if I have to. The doctors won't permit you to go back to work yet, and I'm simply enforcing their rules. You're owed this Lisbon, we both are. And you need this, and you know I do too. So maybe we are hiding, but the company is perfectly wonderful and I am going to enjoy this little escape while we have it."

"So that's it, we stay here and everything's okay?"

"Of course not, I'm sure there will be bad days, or nights when the nightmares remind us of everything we are trying to leave behind."

This time it's Teresa who kisses me, and I am reminded all over again of her strength and will to survive. And the softness of her lips; always, always the softness of her lips.

"I want you to try and sleep Patrick, I wasn't joking the other day – you're too thin and you look exhausted. If I am hiding here to get better, then you have to attempt to as well."

"I will."

"And we can talk after we've had some rest, promise me that."

"Of course we can sweetheart. There is a lot we should talk about. I know we need to come to terms with the last weeks, but you know there is more than that. I have a house in Malibu that I need your help with; I'll need your strength to help me put it on the market to sell. I'm going to need your patience and strength and probably forgiveness when I do that, I can't imagine I am going to let go of it gracefully. And then I'm going to need your help with finding a way to take my wedding ring off, and to properly let go of my marriage to Angela. I'm sorry, but I'm going to depend so much on your patience again my darling."

She smiles a little sadly at me, kisses both of my cheeks, my forehead and then buries her face against my neck, her lips resting on my skin. If I get to go to sleep like this for the rest of my life then I am truly the most fortunate of men.

"We have time to sort through all of this, Patrick, we have plenty of time."

Her breath against my skin is soothing and I believe might become as necessary to me as breathing. I carefully move my arms around her, mindful of causing her pain but needing to be this close to her as she drifts of to sleep.

I close my eyes and rest.


	14. Chapter 14

Falling Slowly Chapter Fourteen

Disclaimer: These characters – all except Jill – don't belong to me, am simply borrowing them for the purposes of this story.

AN: This chapter jumps forward 10 months from the previous one… Just wanted to go back and have a look to see how they were getting on… This is a chapter of no consequence, and fluff of the worst kind. Probably best to look away if you don't want that! To those that have, thanks very much for sticking with me through my first Mentalist story. I have loved writing it.

This is my favourite place to come sit when the day is over and I can happily enjoy a cup of coffee and some quiet. I am out on our balcony, curled up on the sinfully comfortable sofa we have out here. But I suppose it is slightly different tonight from the norm as I don't have a Jane sized cushion to curl into.

I am home alone and I miss him tonight, but that is not something I am likely to share with him anytime soon; if I did Jane would think twice about going out at all. He has started to _go out with the guys_, I suppose. Cho, Rigsby, and two or three agents from Narcotics have started going out for a beer regularly on a Thursday night.

Jane goes too.

He was reluctant at first, beer and chips and talking about sports is more to my taste than his –but I know he enjoys spending time with all of them and the uncomplicated interactions they share.

I don't know why I sound do wistful tonight; I am perfectly capable of spending a night without my boyfriend. And doesn't that make me sound like an ass. I'm at least fifteen years too old to have a boyfriend, but the label does fit in so many ways. He is the man I sleep beside, who loves me passionately, but with a sweetness I could not have imagined, he is the man who spoils me with things I don't need, he is my partner and my best friend. So _boyfriend_ will have to do as a label right now as I am too tired to come up with another.

Anyway, I miss him even though we've spent all day at work together. Maybe we're one of _those _couples. Maybe we deserve a break after all we've been through.

The first few months of our relationship were not easy; Jane was desperately trying to let go of his fear of losing me again and trying to come to terms with our being together while letting go of his family enough so that he might live. And I was not exactly fun to be around all the time. I had nightmares for months, just couldn't sleep for months – I have no clue how Jane functioned for years on little to no sleep, the sleeplessness was genuinely more difficult to conquer than my injuries.

Coming to terms with Red John being in custody was no easier, although Jane kept to his word after all and he let him go without looking back. There were persistent request from Red John that Jane meet with him, that he visit as the two of them had issues yet to discuss… Red John threatened suicide if Jane did not respond to his repeated requests for a meeting.

He killed himself 239 days ago. I know one day I will stop waking up and counting that he has been out of the world for another day, but it's not going to be anytime soon. I realise it's not healthy but I need to mark his absence to reassure myself we are all a safer because he is gone. I need to recognise that Patrick is free of him because he is forever gone from our lives as much as he ever can be.

So like I said, the first few months were not easy; but it helped that we had each other. I worried about Jane, he worried me and somewhere along the way by being together we got better. All those long nights when I couldn't sleep for fear that I would dream again of being tortured, the only thing that kept me tethered to sanity was the warmth of Jane's arms around me and his soft words of comfort in my ear throughout the endless hours of being awake. I didn't know the simple words _I'm here, I've got you sweetheart _would bring me such perfect comfort.

I know I was able to help him too when Jane was brave enough to sell his family home in Malibu. It was painful, desperately so, but healing for us both. There are framed photographs of Angela and Charlotte in our living room, and a beautiful photograph of the three of them hanging in the hallway. I know their image is a poor replacement for their presence in his life, but at least now he is not _haunted _by their absence, at least now he can live with it. He can _live._

It was the week after Jane sold his home in Malibu that he convinced me that we should buy this apartment. We were in our bed, our limbs still tangled around each other, heartbeats just beginning to return to normal when he asked if we could _hide out _in our apartment forever. I know I should have issues with living in an apartment that my _boyfriend _has paid for, but I just don't. I know this is _our _home, and that we will be happy here for as long as we live together within these walls.

I've been thinking too long, my coffee has gotten cold. I should probably coonsider moving from here and going to make myself something to eat.

I hear my cell phone buzzing and am reminded of the time. It will be Jane, he sends me a text at 8.30pm on every of his Thursday nights out. The first time he went out with the guys he was being sweet – as he tends to be, _a lot – _and sent me a text to tell me that he missed me. And as Jane is such a creature of habit he has repeated this little tradition ever since.

Maybe we are one of _those _couples.

I take my phone out of my pocket and reply with my usual _have fun old man_. As I'm about to get up and leave my comfortable position on my sofa, my cell phone rings this time. At least it's not work.

"Hey Jill."

"Hi Teresa, I'm not disturbing you am I?"

"No of course not, I'm trying to decide what to microwave for dinner."

"Really? Patrick can't be home then, I hope you don't starve darling."

"I'm capable of surviving one night without him Jill, besides that's what nachos are for."

I like the sound of her laughter; I wish we lived we closer so I could hear it more often.

"I hear you, Teresa, I really do. I'm calling to make sure everything is in place for tomorrow."

Jane and I have the long weekend off from work, and we're going to Washington to spend the time with Jill and her family. It's Jill's birthday and there's a big party – and I really wouldn't miss it for the entire world. What makes me happiest is that Patrick is coming with me.

"Of course everything is in place, I would have let you know if it wasn't. It must be late with you, you should be sleeping. Don't worry about this weekend, everyone that's coming wants to be there for you."

"I know, and I'm going upstairs to bed in a minute but it's been a rough week at work and I wanted a few moments to myself before going to sleep."

"You okay?"

"Not completely, no, but I'll be better when I go upstairs and go to sleep with my husbands' arms around me. I'll tell you about it tomorrow. Actually no work this weekend darling, I plan on drinking wine with you tomorrow then it better be champagne on Saturday. So tell me something about Blondie that will make me happy, and completely jealous of your fabulous new life."

"There's nothing to tell, you need to go to bed and get some rest."

"Have you talked about kids yet?"

"Jesus Jill this is how you wind down before bed, by giving me a heart attack?"

"Well that's an over- reaction if ever I heard one. I take it that means you _are _talking about kids."

"It really doesn't."

"You sure?"

"Jill."

The exasperation in my tone is usually reserved for my conversations with Jane, I wonder if the two of them have been comparing techniques. I genuinely would not be surprised.

"Okay, I'll table that discussion for the moment. I just want you to be happy."

"I _am _happy."

"Of course you are darling, I don't mean to tease. I was wondering out loud if you were planning on making me an Aunt, I suppose."

"I don't know, maybe this is a conversation I should have with Patrick first."

"Well, I'm almost certain that's true."

I can hear her smile over the phone, but also hear how exhausted she is. I wonder what happened that has made her want to avoid sleep; I can't imagine what it would take to cause Jill to have nightmares. But she has been there for me so much over the last months, it's the very least I can do to talk a little right now.

"I like my life the way it is Jill. I've always wanted children, of course I have, but I let go of that years ago. I have more now than I ever thought I would; I would be happy forever with what I have."

"Of course you would, but I'm greedy, I want everything for you."

"I think I might have gotten too selfish Jill, I love my job and don't know if I could ever give that up."

"I wouldn't expect you to. Let me ask you something, darling. Do you love your job more than you do Patrick?"

"No, of course not."

"Exactly. And that's how you'll feel about any children you might have, you'll love them more. Doesn't mean you won't work, just that there will be even more love in your life. And of course you'll sleep less, your house will never be tidy again and you'll watch Toy Story 3 four times in a row whenever your child decides you should."

I like that she has some fire back in her voice. And I am listening to what she is telling me, however convoluted our arrival at this conversation has been.

"Okay, Teresa I am going to stop nagging you and get some sleep. Before I do can you tell me something to make me a little jealous and hate you and your new relationship just a little."

"I have nothing that could do that."

"Liar."

I know I'm just giving her more material to tease me with if I share anything with, but that is really half the fun.

"Well, Jane has taken to leaving me notes – at home or work, or in my car, or my shoe… Anyway, he writes me to tell me he loves me."

"You're right that doesn't make me jealous, that makes me _sick."_

"Shut up."

"Well that would make a phone conversation boring, wouldn't it? I like the shoe thing though, that shows humour and devotion – two qualities to be much admired in a man. I'm looking forward to seeing both of you tomorrow, we all are. I miss you, and that attractive man of yours."

My reply to this is interrupted when I hear the door to the balcony slide open and turn to find Jane has returned home early. I smile hello as he moves to sit beside me, his hand coming to rest on my knee as he mouths _Teresa _as he smiles at me in return.

"I miss you too, Jill. Get some rest, okay. I'll call you when we check into our hotel tomorrow; we should be arriving in the early afternoon."

"Okay darling. Go get some dinner; I'll talk to you tomorrow."

And just like that she is gone. Hopefully she will sleep, and hopefully we will find time over the next few days to talk about what is bothering her.

"Hey Teresa, you look a million miles away."

Not quite a million, just a little way across the country.

I turn to Jane and look at him properly for the first time since he got home. He looks wonderful. Smug, but wonderful. It looks like he has new clothes on. Did he change before he went out? I really don't think he did – and apparently I _do _need food as I am rambling again.

"You've been sitting out here since you got home Teresa, you're supposed to come home and relax sweetheart."

He leans forward from where he is sitting and presses his lips firmly against mine; I do so love these soft, affectionate kisses Patrick likes to share. I smile against his lips as I feel his hand slide to the curve of my hip, pulling me back against him to kiss my cheek and hold my body against his.

"Why are you home so early? Beer and sports talk too much for you old man?"  
"I told you, I missed you."

"Right. Is something wrong?"

He pulls us back against the sofa, my head on his shoulder as he laces our fingers together as he rests them on his stomach.

"I didn't go out tonight; I decided to take a night off from that."

"You bought a new suit."

"I did. I had plans to take you out for dinner, but now that we're sitting here like this I find myself entirely unwilling to move."

"That's okay, I like this too."

He releases my hand to bring his arm around my shoulder and pull me even closer to him, his lips now resting in my hair.

"You okay Patrick, you seem a little nervous. Look if you don't want to go with me this weekend that's okay. We can visit together another time."

He is kissing my hair this time, his thumb moving in comforting circles against my hip.

"Of course I want to go with you this weekend Teresa, I'm looking forward to it. Jill and I have been sharing stories so we can make fun of you in a tag team formation."

"You can sleep in the spare room you know, if you think you're so funny."

"That's not necessary my dear, I'm shutting up. But I do need your help with something."

"Anything."

"Well, I have a problem and I'm not sure what to do. I went out tonight and picked up this suit I had ordered a few weeks ago, picked up another few items and then drove around for a little while trying to work up the courage to come home."

I really don't know where he is going with this, which terrifies me more than I can say. Jane must notice me stiffen slightly in his arms as he removes his arm from around my shoulder and takes my hand again. In a ritual he performs every day of our lives, Jane brings the knuckles of first my left and then my right hand to his lips. He holds my right hand against his lips as he kisses my fingers, momentarily lost in his thoughts and the touch of his lips against my skin.

"I had plans for tonight Teresa."

He is whispering these words, his mouth pressed against my ear as he works his way towards sharing words that he seems to be struggling with.

"I had plans to take you out for a wonderful dinner, expensive wine, and then a romantic walk through the city. But when I came home to ask you to come out with me I find I enjoy being here more."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"No, not really, I just wanted a more romantic setting when I asked you to marry me."

"Well I like it here, I like sitting with you like this."

"I do too sweetheart, but I don't think you quite understand what I'm saying."

"Patrick, I don't need fancy dinners, you know that. I like to stay home, take advantage of that while I'm still saying it."

"I will my dear, but I need you to turn that wonderful mind of yours back onto our conversation. Try and work out what we're talking about."

What is he talking about; we're discussing being home vs. being out. He said he was going to take me out for a meal and that he wanted a more romantic setting when he asked me to marry him.

Wait.

What?

When he does what?

As I'm having some sort of low level panic attack Patrick is his usual insufferable self and simply brings my knuckles to rest against his lips again. This time he brings the fingers of my left hand to his mouth, and I feel the touch of his lips against the third finger of my hand.

"I know it's soon Teresa, but in a lot of ways it really isn't. We both know there is no one else for either of us, and I am certainly completely unwilling to ever let you go. I want to officially be your family, and for you to be mine."

He's really very good at this.

"Will you marry me, Teresa?"

As he says these impossible words to me, he slides the most beautiful, extravagant ring I have ever seen onto my finger.

I'm speechless. Literally. For the first time in my life, I am without words.

Both of us are just sitting together, my head on Patricks shoulder as he holds my hand in his and we both stare at the ring on my finger.

I think I might be engaged.

The ring really is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I am no good with jewellery but my ring is made up of a beautiful diamond, surrounded by a double row of bead-set diamonds. Patrick breaks my contemplation of our hands together when he brings my fingers to his lips again and whispers…

"I need an answer Teresa, please don't give an old man a heart attack."

"The ring is beautiful."

"Don't tease me woman."

I move from where I am sitting against Patrick and turn round to sit across his lap so that we're facing each other. Immediately his hands go to my hips and I lean forward for a quick kiss.

"Yes."

I whisper my answer against his lips, laughing as he tries to kiss any of my skin that he can reach.

"Are you sure, Patrick, you know I don't need a wedding to love you for the rest of my life."

"Of course I know that. I _want _a wedding. I want you to want one too."

"Then let's get married Patrick."

I lean forward and take his bottom lip between both of mine, loving that I can feel him smile with pure happiness against my lips.

I love that I make him happy. Finally. He gets to be happy.

Sorry, finally _we _get to be happy. Whatever else might be in our future, I know the two of us together will be happy.


	15. Chapter 15

AN: I should probably have left this one alone… But I was asked very nicely to write the _party _and this was the best I could come up with. This is possibly too saccharine and sweet for some, so if that's not your thing… And there's probably one more chapter to come after this.

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, am simply borrowing them for the purposes of this story. Well Jill is mine, because she is made up entirely.

Falling Slowly Chapter Fifteen

There appears to be something wrong with my brain. I think it might be on the outside of my head, I'm almost certain that is not a good thing.

I know I should open my eyes to check on the whereabouts of my aforementioned brain, but I think that genuinely might kill me.

I think I might have had too much to drink last night. Either that or I really am suffering from some long dormant medical complaint that means my brain can leave my body and yet I continue to function in agony.

"Jane. _Jane_. You need to get up; we are running _so _late. I mean it this time, stop pretending you're sleeping."

I can truly say that I love that woman more than anything in my life; she is without question a blessing to me every day... But I have simply never noticed before how loud she can be for someone to small.

I feel the bed next to me move, and then happily feel the warmth of Lisbon's body sitting next to me on this place I seem to have been abandoned. I carefully open my eyes to attempt to deal with today.

"You need to get up Patrick, we need to be over at Stephen and Jill's in less than an hour so you need to hustle you lush."

"I don't feel good Teresa."

Which is the understatement of the week, frankly. I am feeling slightly better now that Teresa is next to me, the warmth of her hip as she rests it against me – and the touch of her fingers to my forearm almost makes me want to do as she says. I can't though, I'm too ill.

"You're hung over, old man. Now you need to get up or I'm going to abandon you here and go have fun without you."

Okay, that's not even funny.

"Can't you just get back into bed with me, that would a much happier way to spend the day don't you think?"

"I think you need to go have a shower before I even _think _about getting into bed with you ever again."

She softens her teasing by leaning forward and kissing my cheek, and I can't resist holding her too me a little longer than I think she planned to be there. I really look at Teresa for the first time since becoming conscious this morning; she looks utterly charming wrapped in a towel. I really am a stupid man for drinking too much last night. Spectacularly stupid. She has her hair pinned up in a way that shows off quite how delicate and lovely her neck is. I would normally tell her these things, but I think I really do need to shower before Teresa will be happy to accept my compliments.

Actually who am I kidding, I am uniquely unable to keep my thoughts to myself when it comes to admiring Teresa and her general loveliness. So I trace the line of her cheekbone with my thumb, her smiling eyes all the conversation we need for the moment.

Until I spoil it with more of my complaints, obviously.

"I don't like hotels."

"Jane, you've spent more time in hotels than anyone I know. I think you like them just fine; it's the after effects of too much drinking you don't like."

"No. I don't like hotels. This bed is weird, my back hurts and my head hurts. I think we've got a faulty bed."

In fairness I do realise how much of an idiot I sound, I desperately need to get up and shower and get into clothes and try and feel more like me. I'm almost certain that will take too much effort. Teresa sighs and moves to stand up and probably continue to get dressed. I really don't want her to go so I dig into reserves of strength I am not entirely sure I have and wrap my arms around her waist and pull her down onto the bed beside me.

Her little shriek of annoyed delight makes the effort so very worth it; but unfortunately her towel remains securely wrapped around her. I am a smart man, but in all my years of life I have never been able to work out quite how woman are able to do that with towels. It's witchcraft, frankly.

"Patrick, get off me. We have to get ready; you are _not _being helpful you know."

She has moved to sit with her back resting against the headboard, and I do what I always do when we share a bed and Teresa sits in that position; I lean over and rest my head in her lap. I could genuinely stay here like this all day.

"Patrick we are not staying in bed all day, our friends are expecting us."

I can't help the smile that so easily comes when Teresa talks of _our friends._

"I know sweetheart, I will move in a couple of minutes and will escort you to our friends with pleasure and pride. But I need you to be as forgiving as you have ever been and let me recover like this for a few moments."

"You're such a drama queen."

I can't see her look of amused resignation, but I can tell from the sound of her words that Teresa has forgiven my petulant whines. And she turns this forgiveness into action when she rests the fingers of one hand on the back of my neck and the soothing touch of the other is drawing comforting patterns on my scalp. Despite my brain being somewhere on the hotel room floor _this, this _is absolute pleasure and contentment.

I could lie like this all day, I mentioned that before, but Teresa will shot me if I don't summon the effort to move my carcass from this bed soon.

I kiss her belly through the unfamiliar fabric of the hotel towel, hoping my tenderness will match hers and will in some way make up for my current inability to function.

"I don't like hotels Teresa."

"Okay."

Her thumb is on the back of my neck, and I curl further into her touch as I continue to act like a spoiled idiot.

"Can we stay here all day?"

I can feel rather than see her laughter, her slight body struggling to contain her amusement at my idiocy.

"You're going to have to make up your mind Patrick, you hate hotels but you want to stay here all day."

Clearly.

"Yes sweetheart. I want this to be our bed at home, and I want to stay in it until my brain becomes a manageable part of my body again."

"You really are a grumpy old man sometimes."

"I'm_ ill_."

"You're a lush, now _move _you idiot."

Teresa, a woman I formerly believed would live and die for me, is cruel beyond all reason and pushes me off my comfortable position against her lovely body and leaps up from where she has been sitting. As if this wasn't painful enough she comes round to my side of the bed and takes my hand and drags me up too.

I rest my hands on her hips and kiss her cheek in apology for my uselessness.

"What was I drinking last night?"

"Champagne."

Oh, yes. I remember now. Stephen and I got through quite a bit of it as I remember, and I also have a hazy recollection of Teresa and Jill abandoning us to our drunkenness. I can only hope I wasn't too embarrassing.

"I think there was something in that champagne Teresa."

"Yes, you idiot, it's called alcohol."

"Do I need to apologise to anyone today?"

"No, you just got a little drunk; it was only the four of us Patrick and you and Stephen were as bad as each other."

"Why did I drink so much, I don't usually even _like_ champagne? What was I thinking?"

"You were showing off."

"Well _that _doesn't sound like me at all Teresa."

She smiles at me, and I regret waking up late all over again – I could've been watching her smile all morning if I hadn't been so hung over today.

"No, it really doesn't sound like you does it? Stop feeling so guilty. You were celebrating our engagement. Did you have fun last night?"

I did. Jill is wonderful, and Stephen is a man worthy of her. He was interesting, funny and made us feel so very welcome in their home. I got to meet their delightfully shy children, Morgan and Jess, before Aunt Teresa put them to bed. And then Stephen and I got happily drunk as we competed over just who was the more charming and entertaining. I distinctly remember Teresa informing us both – and Jill passionately agreeing - the winner of that particular contest would always be some idiot on a programme about Grey Anatomy's, or something very like that. I think that's when we decided to drink more to bury our disappointment. I had a ridiculously good time.

"I did Teresa. Did you?"

"I had a wonderful night."

"I love you."

I find telling her this tends to absolve me of many, many wrongs.

"I would hope so, Patrick. Now go and get in the shower and make yourself look like you didn't drink two bottles of champagne by yourself a few hours ago."

Teresa touches her lips against mine in the most ridiculously brief of kisses before moving to go and start to get ready.

I head into the bathroom to try and make myself feel normal. I swig some mouth wash and look up into the mirror. I look horrible. I'm sure I was in my forties when I got up yesterday; why do I look like I'm my mid- sixties now. No wonder Teresa wasn't overly keen on kissing me just now. I really do want to be home in our apartment where I could get into our amazing shower and the perfect water pressure would force me into feeling almost human again. Now this is a good hotel – I wouldn't dream of taking Teresa anywhere that wasn't going to be a little bit of luxury for her – but it's a universal truth that showers in hotels are no good. Well, as Jane Austen would say; they suck. Doesn't matter though, I need to get ready for Teresa.

It's only when I'm away from it – which admittedly isn't often – that I truly appreciate how very much I've come to love the apartment Teresa and I share. I miss our bed, I miss our shower, and I miss having all my _stuff _where I want it to be. It's unfathomable to me now that I lived in places like this for so many years; actually I lived in places nowhere nearly as nice as this. Well, I suppose that's not nearly as unfathomable as my managing to live without Teresa for all of those years; I simply don't remember how to do that now.

I need to get myself together and manage to complete the simple tasks of shaving and taking a shower. We do, after all, have a party to go to today.

I step out of my pyjama pants and slide open the door to the shower, and I am reminded all over again of how very lucky I am. I have been talking about our apartment in glowing terms; and I maintain my position on that, it's a home and I very much appreciate the comfort of that. But I should acknowledge the infinite comfort and peace the woman who shares that home brings to me. My senses are slower than normal today, and I should have picked up on this when I first came into the bathroom, but opening the sliding door to the shower gave me a real _sense _of what I was yearning for.

Teresa.

It's always going to be Teresa. I want to go to our apartment, because she is there with me. I want to stay in this hotel room all day only if Teresa remains with me. Her scent, the achingly familiar smell of her toiletries and soaps fill this room. I inhale the loveliness of her shower gel, that particular blend of orange and cinnamon that will forever be Teresa. I think briefly about stepping into the shower and using it, in wrapping myself inside the pseudo comfort of her scent. Instead I quickly wrap a towel round my waist and head back out into our room.

She is sitting at the dressing table, applying the make- up that I constantly tell her she doesn't need.

She constantly in return tells me to shut up.

I usually do, doesn't mean I'm wrong though.

It looks like she has been busy while I have been gone as disappointingly Teresa is now dressed. Although as usual she looks far from disappointing. She is wearing a blue knee length dress, it is belted at the waist with little buttons down the front; she looks delicate and feminine. I will go to my grave denying these thoughts.

"Hey. You okay Patrick?"

Hung over, sentimental, and needy, sweetheart – but the first you know about and the other two I'm going to do my very best to keep to myself.

"I am. I just wanted to do this."

I move to stand behind her and put my hand on her shoulder and lean down to kiss the top of her head, looking up into the mirror to appreciate her smile. Her hand joins mine on her shoulder and she squeezes my fingers a little with affection.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"You look beautiful sweetheart I just wanted to tell you that."

"Okay."

She's smiling at me a little like I'm crazy again, which I acknowledge is a reasonable assumption right now. She still has her hair pinned up at the back of her neck, and I must say I have particular weakness for Teresa when she looks like this.

"Are you wearing your hair up today Teresa?"

"No, I'm not finished getting ready, which is what you need to be doing too. Now shoo"

I'm apparently very bad at communicating my mood or feelings today. I stroke the exposed pale skin of the back of her neck and Teresa finally meets my gaze in the mirror again.

"Do you want me to wear my hair up Patrick, I was going to leave it down and not straighten it – I thought you liked it that way."

"I do, very much. Do whatever you want, sweetheart. You look beautiful; I just wanted to tell you that."

Teresa smiles shyly and I think tries to accept the sincere truth of my words.

I lean down and kiss the back of her neck before turning again to go clean up.

Except I can't leave it there so I am quickly back in place behind her, with both arms on her shoulders my eyes locked with hers. I lean forward and bury my nose at the place neck meets shoulder and take a deep breath of her scent.

"You smell so good Teresa."

I whisper the words against her skin, and I can feel the tremor of pleasure they involuntarily cause.

"Just now when I went to shower I could smell your shower gel, that's what sent me out here to you. I wanted to tell you that wherever I am with you it will always be home, and that scent of cinnamon and orange is as comforting to me as anything I can think of. You make me very happy; I wanted to make sure you know that."

I reluctantly move so that I can watch Teresa's reflection in the mirror, hoping she indulges my sentimentality. She has a wonderful blush on her cheeks and a smile of absolute happiness on her face which is reflected in her green, green eyes.

"You make me happy too Patrick."

She turns her head slightly and kissed my hand where it rests on her right shoulder.

"Teresa. Can I ask for one thing before I leave you alone to get ready?"

She nods in response, smiling shyly at me.

"If I take you out to dinner next week to celebrate our engagement would you wear that dress, and wear your hair up?"

She smiles again, the blush of pleasure returning to her lovely face.

"_Yes._ No go, or we will never get out of here."

"Teresa…"

"Patrick…"

I am laughing now; being close to her like this has woken me from my state of feeling unwell.

"If I take you to dinner another night next week to celebrate our engagement will you wear that dress and wear your hair down again?"

She laughs out loud this time and it's the most beautiful sound in the world.

"Are you going to be like this all day?"

"Of course not Teresa, I'm going to be like this for the rest of your life."

I wink at her, and kiss the top of her head affectionately before retreating to the bathroom. I have to clean myself up enough to be worthy of Teresa today.

It takes me about twenty five minutes to shave and stand under the tepid water long enough to soothe my weary bones. By the time I've wandered back out to our room Teresa has laid my suit and shirt out on the bed, and there is a tray of tea from room service waiting for me.

She really is far more than I deserve.

I hurry into my clothes while Teresa fusses with the finishing touches to her hair and make-up and wraps the present we have bought for Jill. We've gotten her a Kindle which frankly I can't see the point of but Teresa was very excited about the purchase so I have one in my suitcase to surprise her with later.

"So are we finally ready to leave Patrick?"

"I've been waiting on you sweetheart, women take such a long time to get ready for anything…"

I am rewarded for my impudence with a smack to my arm.

"I hope you don't beat me like this when we're married."

"Hush. Now, you know there's going to be a lot of people here today and tonight Patrick."

"Of course, I can imagine Jill is a popular woman and that friends will be coming to wish her happy birthday."

Teresa is standing directly in front of me now, her hands on my chest which usually means she has something difficult to tell me.

"What I am trying to say is that there will be times tonight when I will be out of your line of sight."

Oh. I see

"I don't want you to be upset by that, and I want you to enjoy this party and to relax. But we won't be joined at the hip all night and I don't want you to be stressed when I'm not next to you."

She is stroking my chest now, offering comfort with her touch as well as her words.

"You're awfully full of yourself today Teresa."

And I have to make a bad joke like the insecure idiot I can sometimes be.

"I mean it, Patrick. This is a safe place we're in tonight; I don't want you to be uncomfortable when I am not with you."

"There are plenty of times when I'm not with you."

"But you worry."

"Of course I worry; it's not even been a year yet Teresa."

And I can't help it I pull her to me in a bone crushing hug as suddenly I am back in _that _place. I feel her heart beat against my chest and try and calm myself with the knowledge that we are here, safe, together.

"I'm not going anywhere Patrick and I didn't mean to upset you but it will be good for us to be with different people tonight, and good for you to lose me in the crowd for a little while. We might even have to talk to some people we don't like – but remember that means when we're back here later we can make fun of them together."

I refuse to answer Teresa, despite the sense of her words. I simply tighten my hold on her and try to drag my thoughts away from what was done to her ten months ago.

She pulls out of my arms slightly and holds my face between her hands. I am comforted both by the love in her eyes and the feel of her engagement ring against my cheek. I know it's better to have this little moment of weakness here and now where I am understood rather than in front of strangers later.

"You could never be lost in a crowd Teresa."

I take her hands in mine and kiss her knuckles; it's our routine and my very great pleasure. Then I turn over her hands and gently kiss the fading scars in her palms. Teresa is smiling sadly at me, but it the love in her eyes that will sustain me tonight when I am worry needlessly – or over anxiously – about her wellbeing.

But I am also aware that I will no hover dangerously close to _that _place, and _those _memories tonight.

So we leave the shelter of our hotel and get a cab back over to the Barkers home in a quiet area of Washington I am completely unfamiliar with. I can see why they would choose to live here, the houses are modest and the area apparently friendly from the sheer number of neighbours Morgan told me were coming over today.

If I thought I was going to be able to relax with tea for a while I was badly mistaken, no sooner am I in their home, Jill has me moving tables and setting out glasses and food and alcohol. I am glad to be useful, happy to be thinking of something other than the fragility of life and how in some ways I am always going to live up to my moniker of_ over protective ass_ when it comes to being by Teresa.

I _know _rationally she does not need my protection, but the instinct remains.

So while Teresa is put to work charming distant relatives, I go and entertain the kids. Stephen told Morgan that I could do magic so while the house full of cousins were less than positive about the birthday party they had been forced to endure in their best clothes, I had a captive audience.

It was fun to spend an hour or impressing my young audience and showing off, teaching Morgan and his buddy Andrew some basic magic. I genuinely did not panic about the whereabouts of Teresa while I was doing this.

The rest of the party is what I expect.

Too many people in too small a place, too much loud music, shouting, singing, noise.

I am too set in my ways I think to enjoy an event like tonight anymore.

So I hover around the perimeter of what is going, engaging with people when I have to – smiling and sipping my wine, but really just wanting to go home with Teresa. I know I would engage more successfully if there were less people here, but I can't muster the effort anymore to participate in this. Large parties were such a part of who I was when I didn't like myself, and yes they were much flashier than this but the remembrance of them is dragging me down tonight.

Teresa is being engaging and charming to all of those she meets – and despite her insistence that I do not, I can't help but to keep an eye on her. And that is honestly partly for the pure pleasure of looking at her lovely face when she laughs and smiles. Anyway, she is being everything I am not tonight.

She is dancing with Stephen, Jess and Morgan now – they're laughing and doing some frankly ridiculous moves so I leave to go for a quick walk around the garden to lighten my mood. I know I'll get better at being with people; perhaps I really shouldn't have been so quick to get drunk last night. All of this was so much easier when I was in my twenties.

I avoid the crowd already in the garden, their laughter and talking a blur to me as I move through to try and find a place of my own.

"You coming to join me Patrick?"

Jill is sitting at the end of her garden, her back against a tree, and an opened bottle of wine at her feet.

"I was feeling a little out of sorts, so I was escaping for a moment."

"Me too, come sit by me Patrick. You want a drink?"

"I most certainly do not."

She's laughing now, and I can remember more of that from last night.

"Stephen crawled to the bathroom this morning, literally on his hands and knees. Both of you are charming drunks, but I don't think champagne is meant to be drunk in those quantities."

"I _know that now."_

"So what's up?"

"I could ask you the same question Jill, why are you hiding out here?"

"I wanted some quiet."

"Me too."

"Okay, so Patrick you tell me the truth first and then I'll tell mine."

"I don't feel at my best tonight."

"That would be the alcohol. You're dehydrated; you should be drinking a lot of water – not _tea, _just water."

"As sensible as that sounds, I don't think it's only the after effects of drinking. I'm not very good at parties, and Teresa is making me be sensible and allow her mingle on her own. I'm not very good at that either."

Jill moves her hand to my knee for a few seconds and squeezes it affectionately. While I might not appreciate a large gathering anymore, I do enjoy the increased bonds of friendship I have these days.

"You are a gregarious man Patrick, why would you think yourself no good at parties? The kids loved you earlier, and my mother in law is more than a little in love with you. She was telling me earlier about the lovely chat you had about antiques."

"She's a nice woman it wasn't hard to talk with her."

"Well that's what a party is, talking with people. I would say that's one of your fortes Patrick."

"No it isn't, not really. I can enjoy messing with people a little too much, I tend to be cruel. Going to parties reminds me of a time when working a room was _work. _And that reminds of my old life, and I don't like myself very much. Which in turn reminds me of my family, which makes me think about Teresa out there on her own; and the craziness continues."

"No. I definitely just think its dehydration."

And her dismissal of my complaints has me laughing in a way I didn't think I would tonight.

"Oh okay then, if that's what you think."

"Look Patrick, I don't have all the answers despite my usual insistence to the contrary. But I have never witnessed this cruelty you're talking about. And I'm not saying it doesn't exist, but the people you have spoken to tonight and that have spoken to me about you have liked you. Everyone is happy that Teresa has found someone worthy of her. And it's okay to feel overwhelmed if things like this remind you of what you were, and what you've lost – that's the point you go grab what you have. You want to feel better, don't sit our here with me, go and find Teresa and say _honey I need you_ and I guarantee she will make it better by being."

"Okay."

"You'll go do that?"

"Can I call her sweetheart instead of honey?"

"If you insist."

"Okay, I can live in a world where I need Teresa Lisbon."

"Me too, I like living in a world where I need her too. So have you decided on a date for when you're going to make her Teresa Jane?"

"I hope soon, but it's up to Teresa; whatever she wants is fine with me."

"That is _exactly _the right attitude. The ring is gorgeous by the way, a beautiful choice."

"Thank you. So are we going to talk about me all night and avoid why you are out here?"

"I was hoping to."

I watch as Jill toys with wine bottle in front of her. It doesn't look she's had very much, and she certainly doesn't seem inebriated in any way. She frankly just looks a little sad.

"Can I help with anything? I'm not prying, but Teresa mentioned you'd had a bad day at work when she spoke to you the other night."

I feel like the worst man in the world as my words have brought tears to her eyes.

"I'm sorry Patrick, I don't mean to be so emotional or embarrass you and really, _really _I'm fine."

"Should I go and get Stephen for you?"

"No, honestly I'm going in in a minute – it's present time soon and I don't want to miss that. And it's nearly time for cake; I refuse to miss cake at my own party."

"So why are you here hiding?"

"I was taking a moment to be sad."

"Should I be worried, can I do anything?"

"Yes, you can marry my friend and make her happy for the rest of her life. About me being sad for a while; not really. You're very kind to listen, which negates some of your self- loathing from earlier incidentally. Work wasn't making me sad the other day, well in a way it was work but not like Teresa assumed. A friend from work, a colleague I've worked beside for a lot of years is very sick. She's had to quit work to concentrate on treatment and I spoke to her for a while a few days ago, I can't tell you how useless I felt. I couldn't fix her problems with my smart ass remarks – so I was essentially useless."

"I'm sure that's not true, I'm sure you weren't useless."

"I know, it's self-pity saying that which is not an attractive colour on anyone. I'm worried about her is all. And I'm worried something will happen to me, or Stephen, or my children, or my mom… I'm just having a sad moment. I wanted to think about my friend for a while. And I wanted to have a misplaced worry about all of the things that could possibly happen to my family and friends that I have no control over."

"If I were a braver man I would admit to Teresa that I want to lock her in our apartment and never let her leave."

"She'd break down the door, and then hurt you if you did."

"Of that I am well aware."

"And even if you did that Patrick, even if you hid her away from people in the world who might harm her; you'd still not be able to protect her from those things in life that blindside you."

"I know. I don't think you should sit here much longer, it's okay to worry but you can't sit on the outside and hope that brooding will make it better."

"Preach it Mr Jane."

"And she's back."

Jill lays her head on my shoulder for a few moments, and it's strange to be the dispenser of good sense. I like it though; I like the tethers of friendship being strengthened.

"Maybe you should go tell your husband _honey I need you."_

"I hate it when people quote me to me. I always sound much more ridiculous outside of my head."

"I get that too."

"Okay Blondie, let's go cheer up and find the better parts of ourselves."

I stand up, brush off my trousers and lean down to help Jill up from where she sits. We walk back into the party together and seek out those who can heal us. Jill joins her family who are still dancing to some rhythm apparently only they recognise; which is actually quite lovely to watch. I leave them though to find Teresa.

She is in the kitchen, filling the dishwater and tidying away empty clean plates.

"Aren't you supposed to be having fun, Teresa?"

She turns at my question, a smile on her face as she moves across the kitchen to hug me.

"Hey, I haven't seen you for ages. I'm exhausted; I forgot how much energy you need to _talk _for hours. And I've been made to engage in very strange dancing with the Barkers, and people could see. You okay?"

I tighten my arms around her, delighted to listen to her happiness. I whisper the words to her that I know will always be my redemption, because now I can tell her instead of keeping it to myself.

"I need you sweetheart."

My arms are wrapped entirely around her small frame, and Teresa tightens her hold around my waist.

"You have me, Patrick. You always will."

I kiss her forehead, listening to her hum of pleasure at my touch.

"So as I was saying Teresa; I need you to come dance with me sweetheart. Will you?"

"Well, I sort of promised this guy..."

I grab her round the waist and lift her against me, calling her a _wicked woman _as she laughs at me. As much as today has been exhausting and at times difficult, it's all worth it to hear Teresa laugh like that.

I imagine that will be true for all things for the rest of my life.


End file.
